It's A Shame You're A Dream
by empresskris
Summary: One New Year's Eve can change everything.
1. Chapter 1

Santana glanced down at her watch with a sigh. 9:32 pm. She had been there for less than forty minutes and already she wanted to leave.

Puck had ditched her for the first model he saw and Mike had disappeared with Tina shortly thereafter. She checked over her shoulder for Sam but he too had left her. She rolled her eyes when she saw him standing in a nearby corner surrounded by girls.

There went her dates for the night.

She held up her almost nearly empty drink and caught the bartender's eye, tapping the side of the glass with her pointer finger. The bartender nodded once in response and immediately busied himself preparing her another. Santana knocked back the remainder of the brown liquid and set the empty glass on the counter top. At least she had whiskey to keep her company.

Santana glanced around the large room at the thick crowd of people and the Christmas tree lights still strung up everywhere. The night club guests were loud and cheery; most dressed to the nines: shimmering gowns, oversized jewelry and Perry Ellis suits. She scanned their faces as best she could in the low level lighting. She knew some, recognized a few, and had never before seen the majority. The music pulsed loudly. Santana turned back around towards the bar.

It had been a long couple of months on the road. A few days at home in Boston for the holidays weren't enough of a break, but had still been welcome nonetheless. She was sleep deprived and run down. Her voice was scratchy and she had a nice set of bags under her eyes.

The very last place she wanted to be was a loud, crowded New Year's Eve party in the heart of New York City. And if she heard _Last Christmas_ one more time she was pretty sure she would have a mental breakdown. The song seemed to follow her wherever she went and it was starting to grate on her nerves. But making appearances and attending events were part of the gig. _Could be worse,_ she thought. _I could be performing tonight. _

Instead of whining, she had peeled herself away from the crowd and ordered a drink at the back bar in the far corner, distancing herself as best she could from the overstuffed room.

The bartender placed a Jack and Coke down in front of her with a smile. Santana nodded appreciatively and reached for the drink as he took her empty glass away. She brought the glass to her lips, grateful for the never ending booze supply - another perk of her job. The first gulp had barely touched the back of her throat when the familiar notes of a new song blared through the speakers. "Jesus Christ," she muttered around the glass as _Last Christmas_ began to play. "Un-fucking- real," she grumbled. She tilted her head back and chugged as much as she could to drown out the music.

"Excuse me..."

The voice made Santana stop mid-sip and turn her head, the glass still pressed to her lips. Her eyes landed on an attractive blonde smiling tentatively at her. The new girl motioned towards the stool next to her. "Is anyone sitting here?"

Santana swallowed roughly and lowered the glass shaking her head. "No, no go ahead," she winced as the liquid burned her throat. The blonde smiled and placed her silver clutch on top of the bar as she eloquently slipped atop of the stool.

The girl flagged the bartender down and ordered a drink. Santana suddenly found herself checking the other girl out of the corner of her eye. She looked down the blonde's long silver dress with straps that covered just the tops of her shoulders and hugged her body perfectly. She arched an eyebrow when the blonde crossed one leg over the other revealing a large split in the side of dress that reached mid-thigh.

Santana's eyes traveled up from her legs and silver strap-up pumps, along her bare arms, and finally to her simply done, pulled-back hair. The glint of diamond earrings caught her attention just for a moment - before her eyes trailed down the side of the girl's smooth neck. Santana brought her Jack and Coke back to her lips while her eyes fell lower to the plunging V shaped dip that revealed the perfect amount of cleavage.

She was absolutely stunning.

The blonde turned her head and smiled, catching Santana as her eyes wandered back up to her face. Their eyes met and Santana took a slow sip, blushing slightly at being caught looking. The blonde chuckled lightly and held up her drink with a small nod. Santana pulled her glass from her lips to mimic the gesture. The blonde took a long sip of her white wine, her hazel-green eyes never leaving the brunette's own gaze.

Santana drained the glass rested it on the bar, glancing down at her own appearance: tight dark jeans with black boots to her knees, a form fitting plain white t-shirt and a black blazer with the sleeves rolled halfway up her forearms. She suddenly felt _very_ underdressed. Santana sighed. At least she had managed to run a comb through her usual slightly messy hair before heading out.

"This song is going to be stuck in my head all night," the blonde confessed suddenly with a small chuckle.

"No kidding," Santana muttered. They shared a brief smile before turning back to their own drinks. Santana drummed on the side of her glass with her fingers and stared at the shifting ice cubes. It was then that she could feel the girl to her left watching her.

Maybe she was trying to place who she was or why she might look familiar. Santana _was_ overdue to be recognized. She just hoped the girl wasn't an entertainment writer; or worse, one of those TMZ "reporters". She glanced at the blonde from the corner of her eyes. No entertainment or gossip writer she had ever encountered dressed or looked like _that, _she rationalized, amused.

"So why aren't you out there the middle of the masses?" the blonde asked curiously.

Santana snorted. "I've been in the middle of the masses for the past year and a half." She looked over at the blonde. "Why aren't you?" she asked back with a smile.

"I don't really know anyone here," the blonde admitted with a blush. She winced and looked down, lifting her dress up to her ankles. "And these shoes are killing my feet." She frowned down at her feet disapprovingly.

Santana's eyes fell to the blonde's foot as the blonde slowly rotated it in small circles. "Yeah, I can imagine. Those are some serious heels," she chuckled. When their eyes met again, Santana extended her hand. "I'm Santana."

The blonde smiled and shook her hand firmly. "Quinn."

"Well, Quinn, now you know someone," Santana smirked. Their hands broke apart and Santana reached for her glass once more.

"That makes a grand total of two," Quinn said with a smile.

Santana glanced at the blonde. Of course she didn't come here alone. There was no way she _didn't_ have a date. Santana hoped Quinn didn't notice her smile falter. "Are you here with your boyfriend?"

Quinn chuckled and shook her head. "No, I'm here with my roommate." Santana nodded, feeling slightly relieved. "She's on Broadway and her show just opened. The media's been hounding her all night. So her attention has been elsewhere. At least until her boyfriend gets here."

"Ah," Santana said knowingly. "Well, the media tends to do that. You know, lurk around and then pop up right in your face."

"She loves it," Quinn laughed. "She's wanted to be on Broadway her entire life. To be the next Barbara Streisand." She shook her head, amused. "She deserves it though. She's amazingly talented."

Santana couldn't help but smile at the way Quinn talked about her friend. It was clear that she was very proud of her. She lifted her glass and turned in her stool to face the other girl. "A toast then," she announced. "To your friend." Quinn looked at her curiously before lifting her own glass. "May she have a long and successful career, with the media forever harassing her... and may Barbara Streisand soon feel very threatened," the brunette smirked.

Quinn threw her head back and laughed. Santana's smirk faded into a lopsided smile at the sight. The blonde tapped their glasses together lightly. "Cheers," she said with a nod. They sipped from their drinks, Santana never taking her eyes off of the blonde. "So are _you_ here alone?" Quinn asked with a teasing smirk.

"No, actually," Santana said, turning around in her seat. Her eyes scanned the crowd briefly. "I'm here with him." She pointed to Puck, who was leaning against one of the large decorative columns, his arms around a tall, young, thin woman, their faces close.

"Oh," Quinn said, audibly taken back. She glanced awkwardly at Santana who smirked and continued to scan the crowd.

"And him..." Santana quickly said, pointing to Mike on the dance floor with his girlfriend wrapped around him. "And… him," she pointed to Sam surrounded by a group of laughing girls. Santana rolled her eyes. He was probably humoring them with his mediocre impressions. She turned back towards Quinn and smiled at her amused expression.

Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Couldn't decide on just one?"

Santana shrugged. "Well you know," she said easily, "they all have their own je ne sais quoi."

"I see," Quinn laughed.

Their eyes met and Santana felt her heart race. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the seclusion of being on the road for so long and finally having some decent company besides her band mates. Whatever it was made her insides twist and her palms sweat. She hadn't been this nervous around someone in a very long time. Looking at the blonde, Santana instantly realized that Quinn wasn't just another random girl she met out on the road. There was definitely _something_ different about her. Something special. She couldn't quite put her finger on it…

"Do you live here in the city?" Quinn asked, sipping from her drink.

Santana shook her head, snapping herself out of her musings. "No. I don't. I actually live in LA."

Quinn arched her eyebrows and placed her glass on the counter. "Wow. Did you fly in just for New Years?"

"No," Santana said with a chuckle. "I'm here for work." Quinn nodded. "So what do _you_ do for a living, Q?" Santana finished up her third drink and asked.

Quinn glanced down at her glass and ran her finger along the rim slowly. "I'm in medical school," she said, not reacting one way or another to the nickname Santana had just given her.

Santana's eyebrows arched and she let out an impressed whistle. "A doctor."

Quinn shook her head and looked down with a blush. "Well, no, not yet."

"But you will be," Santana reminded her with a smile. "What kind of doctor do you want to be?" Santana glanced up at the bartender and mouthed a "thank you" as a fresh drink was placed in front of her.

"A pediatrician," Quinn said simply. "What about you? What kind of work brings you here to New York?"

Santana hesitated. The blonde's curious eyes flicked up to meet her own. Santana looked down at her drink and wrapped her hand around it. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about how she wanted to answer. Either Quinn was a pretty decent liar, which she doubted, or she really _was _oblivious to who she was. If that was the case, she was both relieved and disappointed. It had been a long time since she had met someone interesting who didn't know that she was famous. "I'm ah… well," Santana winced slightly and lifted her drink, unsure of how she wanted to answer that particular question.

"Santana!"

The brunette whipped her head around. She smiled when a familiar face made his way over with a large grin.

"Blaine Anderson," Santana said, standing from her stool and giving the man a tight hug. "I had no idea you were going to be at this quaint little shindig."

"Yeah, last minute decision." Blaine slipped his arm around the man next to him. "By the way, this is my boyfriend Kurt. Kurt, this is Santana Lopez._ The_ Santana Lopez," he grinned, leaning into Kurt. "You know, who you've been harassing me to introduce you to for months," he said pointedly.

Kurt ignored the teasing. "I'm a big fan," he said with a large smile.

Santana glanced behind her at Quinn who had politely turned around in her seat, leaving them to their conversation. "Nice to meet you, Kurt," Santana said shaking his hand.

"Hey, look, I don't want keep you, but I'd love to talk to you about our studio time this week," Blaine said excitedly.

Santana glanced over her shoulder again. This time, she saw Quinn walking away from the bar and back towards the crowd, her drink finished and empty left on the counter. Though her first reaction was relief that Quinn wouldn't overhear their conversation regarding work, her relief was quickly replaced with disappointment at their encounter coming to such an abrupt end.

She frowned as she stared at Quinn's back until she disappeared into the sea of people. The nagging feeling in the back of her head urged her to follow the girl, but Blaine clearing his throat brought her back to reality. With a heavy sigh, she turned back around towards him, lifting her drink off of the counter and taking a long sip.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" Blaine asked with a guilty expression; his eyes glancing from the crowd back to Santana.

She smiled and shook her head, lifting her glass to her lips. "No, you didn't interrupt anything," she said, sitting back down on her stool. "Let's talk about this song of yours," she said, motioning to the recently vacant stool next to her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for everyone who has read my first attempt at this and especially to those of you who have reviewed. It means a lot that you took the time to do that. Thank you! **

* * *

For the next hour and a half, Santana sat at the bar and did her best to stay actively engaged in her conversation with Blaine. She really _was_ excited to record a song with him, but she couldn't keep her thoughts from wandering back to the mysterious blonde.

She caught herself staring into the crowd, scanning the faces for her. She caught sight of her once as she passed by the hors d'oeuvres tables. Santana watched as she made herself and plate and joined a cozy looking couple at one of the stand up tables off to the side. She assumed the girl was her roommate and that her boyfriend had finally arrived to join them. Tempting as the thought was, Santana decided against wandering over to their table.

Instead, she nodded along as Blaine continued to excitedly chat her up about the song he had written and her featured part. A few minutes later, Blaine hugged her goodbye and Santana did the same for Kurt, who had been sitting by quietly drinking in the conversation.

Blaine hadn't been gone for more than a minute or two when Santana's producer Jesse had found her and once again wanted to discuss the final track for their upcoming album that had yet to be written. Their record company insisted on adding one more song, but as was often the case, had no details on what it was they were looking for. Santana had heard enough about this mysterious track she was supposed to be writing. Still, after all the hard work Jesse had put into getting the album wrapped, she gave him the time to talk. She owed that to him, she figured. If all that stood between the album and its targeted March release date was one more song, she'd suck it up and hear about what it needed to be. She desperately wanted to get her sophomore out.

After assuring Jesse that the track would absolutely be written "soon", her eyes traveled back over to the table occupied by Quinn and her friends. To her disappointment, they were gone. _She _was gone.

Seeming to pick up on Santana's wandering attention, Jesse excused himself to head off to speak with some label reps. Santana barely had time to lift her drink to her lips before she was once again imposed upon by a local magazine begging for an impromptu interview. Luckily, they kept it short. Santana was also appreciative of how polite they were. After a handful of questions, the interviewer was gone.

Santana spotted a familiar bob of blonde hair and smiled. She trekked away from the bar towards her friend and approached Sam with a smile. She patted him on the back and nodded towards the cute brunette hanging on his arm. He gave an awkward thumbs up and Santana rolled her eyes, leaving him with his date.

Finally away from the bar, Santana made the immediate decision to make an escape from the crowd. She made her way towards the balcony outside, needing a change of scenery.

That and she really needed a cigarette.

Reaching in her jacket, she pulled out her pack of menthols, plucking one out and slipping the rest back in her pocket as she stepped outside. She balanced the cigarette between her lips as she fished out her lighter, noting happily that the balcony wasn't overly crowded. She found an empty space and sighed, thankful for how much quieter it was out here.

She cupped one hand around the tip of the cigarette and ignited the lighter with a flick of her thumb. She paused when her band's latest single revved up and pumped through the speakers inside the ballroom. She smirked around the cigarette and shook her head slightly. No matter how many times she heard her band on the radio or played by a DJ, it still made her smile.

She lit the tip of the cigarette and took a long drag. Exhaling slowly through her nose, she leaned forward and rested her forearms on the balcony railing, looking out across the brightly-lit city before her. It really did look beautiful at night.

The air was frigid but it had finally stopped snowing. As if to underscore, a sharp wind blew through her hair and made her shiver. She briefly wished she had brought a stocking cap or even a thicker jacket. Bringing the cigarette back up to her lips, she glanced down at her watch. The hands were slowly ticking closer towards midnight. She let out a long breath through her nose, the smoke shooting forward through her nostrils as she licked her lips. Another year almost over.

Santana glanced down at the cigarette in her hand and sighed. It was about this time last year that she had sworn to quit these things. But after her break-up last March, she fell right back into the bad habit. She entertained the idea of quitting again this year but dismissed the thought quickly. It was the one constant in her life. Her security blanket. Maybe once their tour was over she'd think about it.

"You really shouldn't be smoking."

Santana turned around. Quinn stood just outside of the door in a long, red pea coat. She smiled. "It's not good for you," she continued as she walked towards the brunette. "I'm a doctor, you know."

Santana smiled. "Not a doctor _yet_," she pointed out.

Quinn laughed and nodded."Touché."

Santana took a small drag as she watched the blonde step up to the railing beside her. "How are your feet?"

Quinn glanced down at her heels and shook her head. "At this point they're just numb. So I figure why not just keep walking on them?"

"Good plan," Santana smirked.

Quinn pulled her coat further up on her shoulders and flipped up the collar against her neck. "Where did your friends go?"

Santana shoved her free hand in her front jeans pocket and rocked back on her heels. "On to the next unsuspecting person I suppose." Quinn nodded and turned her head to watch a very drunk woman in a puffy, yellow ball gown and tiara trip over herself. Her high heels were caught in the long trail of her gown and she was flailing her arms to try and steady herself. Two men grabbed her before she fell and helped her through the door back into the party. Santana raised her eyebrows at the display. "Well now," she said, amused, "there goes the Belle of the ball."

Quinn chuckled at the joke. "And here I was thinking _I_ was overdressed."

Santana turned to look at Quinn and she let her eyes trail down the blonde's body before meeting her eyes. "I think you look great," she said honestly.

Quinn blushed and looked away towards the skyline. "That's nice of you to say. Thank you."

Santana watched her for another beat as she debated whether or not she wanted to insist, when her song faded into a new one blaring from inside. She looked back towards the ballroom with an incredulous look. "Really? Again?" she asked out loud as she threw her hands up.

Quinn turned towards the brunette and tilted her head to the side curiously. "You don't like _Last Christmas_?" she asked, disbelievingly.

Santana smiled and looked down at the cigarette between her fingers. "It's not that I don't like it," she said with a chuckle, "...But when you hear it over and over and over again every single time you're out? The novelty kind of wears off, you know?" Quinn gave her a look. "Okay, I don't like it. It's overplayed and depressing."

"I like it," the blonde smiled.

"It's a sad song," Santana pointed out.

"It's pretty," Quinn countered.

"'Last Christmas I gave you my heart but the very next day you gave it away'?" Santana quoted. "It's about a broken heart! He's all trying to get over this girl and tries to make her jealous or whatever but then when he sees her, he realizes he's still in love. But she doesn't love him back," Santana explained bitterly.

Quinn laughed. "I can see you feel very strongly about this," she smirked.

Santana looked at the blonde and realized how ridiculous she sounded, getting riled up over a song that held no significant meaning for her. She exhaled and let out a small chuckle. "It's just sad. And overplayed," she mumbled and turned away blushing.

"Well, I don't listen to the radio all that often. Or go out. So I don't hear much of anything these days," Quinn confessed.

Santana looked at the blonde curiously. "No music?" If she didn't listen to much music, or get out, then maybe Quinn really _didn't _know who she was. Not that it mattered; the blonde seemed genuine enough. She wasn't dishing for dirt or asking personal questions. She wasn't trying to steal her used napkins or pluck strands of hair from her head. That made her alright from Santana's point of view.

The blonde shook her head. "I love music. I just don't have a lot spare time. And I can't listen to it while I study. I get distracted." she sighed. "I wish I had more time for it. I used to," she said wistfully.

"What do you listen to?" Santana brought her cigarette to her lips. "You know, when you have the time."

The blonde shrugged and placed her hands on the railing and looked out at the city. "I like everything." Santana inhaled deeply and furrowed her eyebrows at the blonde with a look that told Quinn she knew she was full of shit. Quinn turned her head and caught Santana's look. "Okay, okay," she laughed. "I don't like rap. Or heavy metal. And classical and jazz puts me to sleep, although I respect it greatly." Santana tilted her head to the sky and exhaled the smoke slowly, her eyes still on the blonde. "So I guess everything else?"

Santana nodded and licked her lips. "Respectable," she said with a smirk.

Quinn turned so her hip was resting against the railing. She she faced the brunette. "What about you?"

Santana mimicked her and turned to face the blonde as she too leaned against the railing. She tapped the ashes from the tip of her cigarette over the side and she took a deep breath. "Well, I'm kind of partial to rock," she shrugged. "I love the 80s though," she admitted proudly.

Quinn's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes, the 80s!"

"I mean, who doesn't like the 80s right?" she asked loudly. A passerby shouted in agreement and held out his fist. Santana fist bumped him with a satisfied nod as he passed by.

Quinn laughed.

Santana turned and smiled, her eyes finding Quinn's. She licked her lips again as her gaze dropped to the blonde's mouth. She really wanted to kiss her. The urge came out of nowhere and everywhere and now that it had surfaced, she couldn't shake it. She quickly lifted her eyes in time to see Quinn's gaze on her mouth. She smirked when Quinn lifted her eyes and blushed at being caught. It was adorable.

Maybe Quinn _was_ interested. Maybe she _was _curious. Maybe she just liked the color of her lips. Either way, Santana wanted to find out. She took a step closer to the blonde and took a deep breath. "So, do you maybe want to - "

"Hey, Santana!"

The brunette closed her eyes briefly and took a step back, bringing her cigarette to her lips. She took a quick, frustrated drag as she turned towards the intruder, blowing the smoke through her nose. "Puck," she greeted through gritted teeth. Santana looked around and held up her hands questionably. "Where's your entourage?"

Puck looked confused and narrowed his eyes at the brunette. "What? Oh, she's in the bathroom," he waved his hand dismissively."But I now know who I'm kissing come midnight and I knew you'd want to know all about it," he said, rubbing his hands together deviously.

Santana smirked. "Oh yeah, of course. I've been waiting all night for the revealing."

Puck turned his head and the plotting smile fell from his lips as his eyes landed on Quinn. "Hel-lo there beautiful."

The blonde arched her eyebrows as Puck took a step towards her. "Hello..."

"I'm Noah and you are?" He reached out his hand and took one of Quinn's in his own.

"Quinn."

Puck held Quinn's hand in his own and brought his other around to stroke the top of the blonde's hand flirtatiously."It's a pleasure to meet you, Quinn," he smiled.

"Save it, Romeo," Santana said, leaning forward and bumping Puck in the shoulder. She reached over and snuffed out her cigarette in the ashtray on top of the trash can. "So who are you kissing at midnight?"

"Hmm?" Puck reluctantly turned away from the blonde and back to Santana, who had arched an eyebrow expectantly. "Oh! Right, yeah." He grinned and stood up straighter, letting Quinn's hands fall from his own."Tanya. Who just happens to be the newest Victoria's Secret model."

"Ah, an Angel," Santana smirked. She reached out and patted him on the back. "Well done. Congratulations."

"Thank you," he said proudly."Okay, I have to go tell Sam. Maybe I can hook him up tonight too. Dude needs to get laid," he said with a pointed look to Santana. "As does somebody else I know." She rolled her eyes. He turned back towards Quinn and flashed a charming smile. He reached out to take her hand in his own once more. "Quinn, it was lovely to meet you." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

"Yeah, you too," Quinn said, glancing up at Santana who was rolling her eyes.

"And if it doesn't work out with Tanya…" he winked.

Santana pushed Puck away from Quinn. "Not happening," she said, spinning him away and giving him another shove in the direction of the doors.

Quinn chuckled and shook her head. "Well he seems…interesting," she noted as she watched Puck depart.

"He's dirty. And that was disturbingly awkward," Santana said, shoving her hands in her jeans pockets with a shudder.

Quinn smiled and rubbed her hands together, warming them. "He's kind of cute."

Santana's eyebrows shot up. "You think he's cute?"

Quinn shrugged casually. "I don't know. Cute like a puppy?" Santana's face scrunched up in disgust. She loved Puck but she would never understand the sex appeal.

"I can go call him back if you'd like," Santana said, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder. It came out a little more jealous sounding than she would've liked. But she couldn't help it. She _was _jealous.

"No, no," Quinn's hands fell to her sides and she smirked at Santana's expression. "He's not really my type."

Now _that_ caught Santana's attention. "No?" Quinn shook her head slowly, her eyes fixated on Santana's. The brunette chuckled lightly. Suddenly she felt better. "Then you're one of the few, 'cause there aren't many girls who would turn down Noah Puckerman."

"Well I guess that makes me part of the minority," Quinn drawled slowly.

The corner of Santana's lips turned upwards into a small smile. "I guess it does," she agreed.

Their eyes stayed locked together for a moment. Santana desperately tried to read the other girl's gaze. To figure her out. Quinn was definitely flirting, but subtly. She intrigued her. Quinn's gaze shifted to something behind the brunette and her eyes widened. "Is that Ellie Goulding?"

Santana glanced over her shoulder at the blonde who stepped out on the balcony. The girl was with a tall man reaching in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. "Yeah," she said turning back around. Quinn was watching in her in awe, her eyes still wide. Santana smiled."You wanna go meet her?"

Quinn's eyes snapped back to Santana's, her mouth dropped open. "Really?"

Santana smiled and arched her eyebrows. "Yeah, really. Why not?"

"No. We can't just walk over there. I mean, I don't want to interrupt," Quinn said, shaking her head. "She's busy."

Santana laughed and nodded her head towards the singer. "Come on." She turned to walk in that direction, Quinn hesitantly in tow. The brunette chuckled and reached out to take the blonde's hand in her own. "You're gonna like her. She's nice," Santana assured her.

"You _know _her?" Quinn allowed herself to be tugged in the direction of the singer that was currently on heavy rotation on every popular radio station in the world. As they approached, the Ellie Goulding turned her head and smiled when she saw who was coming her way.

"My, oh my, it's Santana Lopez!" She pushed herself off of the railing and leaned in to kiss Santana on both cheeks. "I was wondering when I'd see you wandering about. I saw Mike and Sam a bit earlier. They said you were around here somewhere. How've you been?"

"Can't complain," Santana said with a nod. "And yourself?"

"Tired. Doing the media run. It's a bit exhausting," she said with a sigh.

"Yeah, that'll do it."

Ellie's eyes glanced over at Quinn who was doing her best not to appear nervous. Santana smirked. She thought Quinn looked absolutely adorable. She squeezed the blonde's hand and then casually motioned towards her. "Ellie, this is Quinn, Quinn this is Ellie."

Ellie smiled and extended her hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"It's so nice to meet you," Quinn said, a bit star struck. "I'm… a big fan."

"Aw, thank you, that's so nice," Ellie said with a flattered smile. She introduced them to her manager who smiled politely and then excused himself to take a call.

Santana let go of Quinn's hand and leaned her back against the railing. She smiled as Quinn and the singer broke into an easy conversation, only jumping in the discussion when she was addressed. She was happy to just sit back and watch the interaction and the excited smile on Quinn's face as they talked. Santana was certain she would never forget the look on Quinn's face when she offered to take a picture of her with the singer. Ellie put her arm around her waist and Quinn beamed. Santana snapped the picture with Quinn's phone and smirked as she handed it back.

"Come on now, how about a picture of you two next?" Ellie offered, ushering them to stand next to each other.

Quinn smiled and handed the singer her cell phone. Ellie took a step back and held up the device. "Okay, now snuggle up!" Quinn stepped next to Santana and their eyes met briefly as the blonde shyly slipped her arm around her back.

Santana wrapped her arm around the blonde's waist and pulled her close. She tilted her head to the side so her temple was resting on the side of Quinn's head. "Smile!" Ellie instructed as she focused the camera. Quinn adjusted her head at the last second, her cheek pressing against Santana's as the two smiled just as the flash went off. "Perfect! You two are so adorable."

They slowly pulled apart. Quinn's eyes met Santana's as the brunette let her arm fall from Quinn's waist. She reached out for the blonde's hand and squeezed it, winking at the blonde. Quinn smiled and looked away with a chuckle.

Santana released Quinn's hand and turned to reach for the phone. Ellie held it out with a smile and glanced at her manager walking back over. "I hope you both have a wonderful new year."

"Thanks El, you too," Santana said, handing Quinn her phone.

"Thank you," Quinn said, glancing at Santana and then over to Ellie. "Happy New Year!" Ellie smiled and walked back inside with her manager. Once the door had closed, Quinn turned to see Santana watching her with a smirk. "What?"

Santana shook her head and shrugged, leaning her back against the railing. "I didn't think you had time for music. Yet here you are fangirling over Ellie Goulding."

Quinn stood in front of the brunette and slipped her hands in her coat pockets. "I went to England last year for my cousin's wedding and I fell in love with her music then." Santana nodded, an amused smirk still on her face. Quinn's smile grew. "Did I mention how incredible that was? Thank you."

Santana's shrugged casually. "No problem."

"So how _do_ you know her?" Quinn asked, arching an eyebrow.

Santana watched her head tilt to the side slightly, her eyes sparking. She licked her lips and looked away. "We've crossed paths a few times," she answered simply. Her eyes squinted and she turned back towards Quinn. "Plus, I follow her on Twitter?" she offered coyly.

Quinn slowly arched her other eyebrow. "You're on Twitter?"

Santana shook her head with a sigh. "No, I don't really do social media." She smiled at Quinn's eye roll. "So, can I buy you a drink before the clock strikes twelve?"

"I'd like that," Quinn said with a soft smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologize to all those Finn fans out there - I just couldn't bring myself to add him to this story. I hope you can forgive me. **

* * *

"Hey," Santana said, smiling as Quinn returned from the coat check and slipped on the barstool next to her. She placed a shot and large glass of water in front of the blonde.

"Shots?" Quinn arched an eyebrow. She picked up the small glass and eyed it suspiciously.

Santana shrugged. "Why not? We're celebrating the new year, right?"

"Okay," Quinn smiled. "Then how about another toast?" She lifted her shot glass higher. Santana smirked and lifted her own. "To 2013. May the year be better and brighter than 2012 with the best yet to come."

Their eyes met and Santana nodded. "Well said." Quinn tapped her glass to Santana's. "Cheers," she said softly.

"Cheers."

The two quickly knocked back their shots. Santana slammed her shot glass on the counter top and shook her head, the liquid burning her throat on its way down.

Quinn coughed and brought her hand up to her mouth with a wince. "What the hell was that?"

Santana laughed and reached for her glass of water. "Wild Turkey," she said with a smirk. "Rare Breed."

"That was awful," the blonde confessed as she reached for her own glass of water. She chugged it down quickly making Santana chuckle. "Remind me to never let you pick the drink again," she said in-between gulps, drawing an even bigger laugh from Santana.

A moment later, both women noticed the waiters starting to stream past, ducking into the crowds with trays of champagne flutes balanced on their arms. Santana glanced back at the bartender who had suddenly appeared with two long-stemmed flutes in his hands as well. He placed them down next to Santana and Quinn's empty shot glasses. "I guess it's almost that time," Santana muttered, glancing down at her watch. Three minutes to go.

Quinn leaned forward against the bar and stared at the champagne. "Another year over," she said wistfully. She looked out at the crowd. "My first party rubbing elbows with celebrities. Who would've ever thought?"

Santana flashed a mischievous grin. "Well if your friend is as good as you say she is, it won't be your last."

Quinn turned to look at her. "Somehow I don't think it will be the same."

Santana watched her for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. She felt her own gaze wander reflexively to Quinn's lips. Who was this girl, who just strolled into her life and made her tongue-tied and speechless with only a grin? When their eyes met, Santana's heart pounded rapidly beneath her chest. She made her feel light-headed. Nervous. Excited. And she could not for the life of her remember the last time she'd felt that way.

Santana reached for her glass of champagne and took a long sip, her eyes still fixated on Quinn's mouth. She really wanted to kiss her. But she wondered if that would be too presumptuous. With a quiet sigh, she smiled at Quinn and turned her attention back towards the crowd.

The multiple TV screens plastered around the bar showed Ryan Seacrest gearing up to start counting backwards on national television. If she had wanted to, Santana could have gone back out to the balcony and looked across the river at Times Square in real time and watched the ball drop in the distance in person instead of on television. But it wasn't high on her priority list. It didn't interest her. The whole national celebration of the New Year had always been a little ridiculous in her opinion. If it wasn't for the blonde seated next to her she thought for sure she'd already be in bed, fast asleep.

So when the countdown loudly started throughout the bar, she rolled her eyes and sighed. She had spent last New Year's Eve with her ex-girlfriend's tongue down her throat despite knowing things weren't working out between them. And this year, she was in the middle of a party with no one to kiss, sitting next to, quite possibly, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. _I'm ridiculous._ She thought.

She glanced over at Quinn, who was watching the crowd with a thoughtful-looking expression. But damn if Santana didn't want to kiss her, for tradition's sake if anything. She shook the though from her head once again. The ball was in Quinn's court and she didn't want to do anything to make her uncomfortable. She was enjoying her company too much to jeopardize that.

Ten.

Quinn turned to look at Santana and smiled that incredible smile of hers.

Nine.

Santana smiled back and looked away to see if she could spot her friends. If she wasn't going to kiss someone, she sure as hell wanted to make sure her friends did.

Eight.

Puck's mohawk made him easy to pick out of the crowd. He was already wrapped around his new found model, his tongue already down her throat. Santana snorted. Of course they had gotten a head start.

Seven.

His hand went straight to her ass. Santana rolled her eyes.

Six.

She really hated New Years.

Five.

Santana felt a gentle hand on her cheek and her head turned to the side until she was face to face with Quinn.

Four.

Before she could process what was happening, soft lips were on her own, kissing her hesitantly. Everything seemed to stop. She could longer hear the countdown or the music or the people cheering. All she was knew were Quinn's warm hands on her face and her tongue gently touching her bottom lip.

Santana closed her eyes and turned her body into Quinn's. She reached out and placed her hands on the blonde's hips, pulling the girl into her until their bodies met. Santana turned her head to deepen the kiss and sighed when their tongues met. Her hands slipped around the blonde, her palms flat against Quinn's back, suddenly desperate to pull her even closer as they slowly kissed. She distantly heard cheers, fireworks and music, but it was muffled, as if she were swimming under water. It was all distant background noise.

Nothing else existed outside of Quinn's mouth and her tongue. Her flowery scent filled Santana's senses.

All too soon their kiss ended and Quinn slowly pulled away. Santana opened her eyes and looked at the girl still in her arms, unsure of what to say. Quinn blushed. "Happy New Year."

"Yeah," Santana said breathlessly. Her eyes fell back to the blonde's mouth. "Happy New Year," she muttered as she leaned back in to press their lips together.

The room seemed to spin, twist and tilt aimlessly. Santana had never shared a kiss like this with anyone. Ever. And she had kissed quite a few people in her life. None of them, not _one_, compared.

Quinn's hands were in her hair, holding her in place as they took their time, oblivious to their surroundings. It was slow, burning and passionate. Santana knew then that she could stay just like this forever. Kissing Quinn had her losing track of time and space and she loved every second of it.

Santana vaguely remembered guiding them to the far end of the bar where it was just a little darker, away from the mainstream traffic. They barely separated as they moved, their lips parting only for the briefest of seconds until they were safely in the corner, away from any distractions.

Santana sat on one of the stools, Quinn across from her, barely sitting on her own. She leaned forward, into Santana, holding onto her. Their legs were entangled, pressed together, with Quinn nestled comfortably between the brunette's. Santana cradled Quinn's face in both of her hands, gently brushing her thumbs across her cheeks.

Finally, painfully, they both seemed to realize the need for air. They slowly separated, Santana licking her swollen bottom lip. She stared up at the blonde, whose eyes were half-closed. Her chest heaved in and out as they both tried to regain control of their breath. Santana glanced around, confused. "How long have we been…?"

Quinn shook her head. "I have no idea," she confessed as she pulled Santana's head towards her again. She grinned into Quinn's kiss and tugged the blonde closer, off of her stool and against her body, and wrapping her arms tightly around her.

A blinding flash went off near their faces, the brightness snapping Santana back to reality. Her stomach dropped with a terrible realization that stole her mercilessly away from the incredible moment she had been having with Quinn. She was in a public place, making out with a beautiful woman, and there were journalists among the crowd. How could she be so stupid?

She pulled away from Quinn and turned her head; ready to beat the crap out of whoever it was behind the camera. But her expression changed from pissed to relieved annoyance when she recognized the photographer.

"Happy New Year!" Sam called out, peering from around his iPhone with a devious grin. He snapped another picture, shot her a wink and disappeared back into the crowd as quickly as he had came.

"And that was Sam," Santana sighed. Quinn chuckled and lowered her head with a blush. Santana smirked and ran her hands up the blonde's sides. There was no way she could separate herself from the other girl now. But she definitely didn't want to keep being interrupted or sought out by unwanted spectators.

She wanted to get to know her, be near her, and talk to her. She licked her lips nervously. She had invited girls back to her place before, but she was certain this was the first time she had invited a hot girl out for a conversation. "Do you maybe want to go somewhere and talk?" Santana asked, her hands settling back on Quinn's waist. "Or go get some coffee?"

Quinn ran her hands down Santana's chest and gripped the lapels of her jacket. "Do you have a room close by?" Her eyes flicked upwards and met Santana's flirtatiously, nervously biting her lowering lip.

Santana nodded her head quickly. She reached in her jacket pocket, fished out her room key and flashed it in front of the blonde. "Right across the street," she said breathlessly. She hoped briefly that she didn't come across as overly eager as she felt.

Quinn glanced at the hotel key card. Her eyes met Santana's again and she blushed. "I'll go get my coat," she said, suddenly sounding shy again.

Slowly, Quinn stepped out of Santana's hold and walked towards the coat check, glancing over her shoulder to smile at the brunette. "Sweet Jesus," Santana exhaled. She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath as she watched the blonde disappear. She turned towards the bar and shoved her room key back in her pocket and pulled out her phone. She typed out a quick text to Sam.

_Leaving for the hotel. Don't wait up. See you in the morning at the studio_

She sent the message and looked at it for a second. With a smirk, she tapped out another one.

_And you better send me those pics you perv_

She slipped her phone back into her pocket and walked towards the coat check. She slowed when she saw the blonde having a conversation with her roommate. Quinn shrugged on her coat and tucked her clutch under her arm. The blonde glanced in her direction and smiled, but her friend didn't turn to look. Instead, she gave Quinn an unsure expression and put her hands on the blonde's shoulders.

Santana arched an eyebrow and made her way towards the duo. Quinn's friend glanced in her direction. Her jaw dropped. "Oh my God," she said, her eyes wide as she pulled away from the blonde.

Santana's smile faltered slightly, her senses suddenly going on the defensive. She knew that look. She saw it on an almost daily basis. She had officially been recognized. She glanced nervously at the blonde who mercifully came to Santana's aid by interjecting a hasty introduction. "Santana, this is my best friend Rachel. Rachel, this is Santana." Santana was pleased to note that Quinn hadn't noticed the momentary panicked look on her face.

"I know who you are," Rachel said, extending her hand. Santana shook Rachel's hand in greeting, her eyes constantly shifting towards the blonde.

Quinn tilted her head curiously and glanced at Santana. Santana flashed Quinn a quick smile and turned back towards Rachel. The best way to avoid an awkward situation was to shift focus. "So, I heard you're on Broadway. That's pretty amazing."

Rachel's face changed from shocked to flattered in an instant. "Thank you," she said with a smile. "I'm very excited." Quinn smiled and reached out to link her arm through Santana's. Rachel's eyes followed the movement curiously. Her eyes snapped back to the blonde, realization radiating from her face. "Quinn, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked, nodding her head away from Santana.

Quinn glanced at Santana who looked back at her, her brows raised. "Actually," Quinn said, "we were just on our way out." She linked arms with Santana a little more tightly to emphasize the point. "I just wanted to tell you goodnight."

Santana smiled reassuringly at Quinn. She nodded towards Rachel with a small smile. "Go ahead," she shrugged, "I'm not going anywhere." If she was going to get called out it might as well be from her friend. There was no use in fighting it. "I'll wait."

Quinn looked confused. "Okay. Give me two minutes," she said apologetically to Santana. She turned towards Rachel as an attractive man stepped up suddenly from behind her. His blue eyes never leaving Rachel.

"Here you go," he said, smiling and handing Rachel a glass of champagne. He smiled at Quinn and shifted his gaze to Santana. She sighed when his eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. There was that look again. "Holy crap," he exhaled.

Santana forced a smile and reached her hand out. "Santana," she said, beating him to it.

"Nick," he said shaking her hand. "I'm with her," he said, gesturing to Rachel who was still stared pointedly at Quinn. He slipped his arm around her waist but his star struck expression remained on Santana.

Quinn sighed. This was all becoming a little ridiculous. "You guys enjoy the rest of your evening. I'll see you at home, okay?" Quinn said, interrupting the increasingly awkward moment. "We can talk tomorrow." She leaned in and kissed Rachel on the cheek. "I'll be fine," she assured her.

"But, Quinn, I don't think you realize-" Rachel started, but Quinn had already started to walk away, pulling an amused, and somewhat relieved, Santana along with her.

"I'll be fine!" She assured her roommate once more. "Happy New Year!" Quinn called out as she led Santana to the exit. Santana smiled politely at the couple and offered a small wave as she allowed herself to be pulled out of the party.

The couple stared after them, Nick's mouth still hanging open. "Was that...?"

Yup," Rachel answered.

"Are they going to…?"

Rachel nodded. "Yup."

"Does she…?"

"Nope," Rachel knocked back her glass of champagne, finishing it in one continuous gulp.


	4. Chapter 4

The light came in like a spotlight. She shut her eyes tightly and brought up her arm to block it out. It wasn't that effective, unfortunately. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand elicited a whine. It was way, _way_ too early to be awake. With a resigned sigh, she slowly peeled her eyes open, wincing at the brightness that poured in from the large windows. She squinted at the half pulled drapes and groaned at the sudden realization that they had been open all night.

Turning onto her side, she smiled lazily at the brunette stretched out on the bed next to her. Santana was asleep on her stomach; her head turned away. One arm dangled off the bed and the other was draped loosely around Quinn's midsection, holding her.

Quinn shifted as she tried to find a position where the sun wasn't beaming in her face. The slight movement did not go unnoticed; Santana's arm squeezed tighter around Quinn's waist, pulling her closer. Quinn chuckled sleepily and let herself be drawn in closer. She propped her head on her hand and looked down at the other girl. Her eyes trailed across the brunette's bare skin, down to the small of her back and as far as the sheets would allow her gaze to wander. Quinn smiled, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of Santana's back as she breathed.

Thoughts of the previous night began to flood back in. This wasn't something she did. She wasn't the type of girl who went out, picked up a complete stranger and let them take her home for the night. She didn't sleep with people she just met, people she didn't know. It just wasn't who she was. But last night felt different.

_And why shouldn't it_, she thought. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the party, or the fact that she had been so focused on her studies that her mind and body were screaming at her to do something a little reckless. Maybe it was the way Santana looked at her. Whatever it was had given her the courage to "live a little" as Rachel liked to put it.

Last night had been quite possibly the best night of her life. And she couldn't stop smiling.

She glanced at the room service menu, Santana's late night promises of breakfast filling her head. She reached out and gently pushed the hair from Santana's neck, her eyes landing on the tattoo permanently marked there. Her fingertips gently traced the outline of the array of black musical notes. She contemplated waking the girl; showering her bare skin with kisses and caresses. Her smile grew at the thought.

But first: she needed some mouthwash. And she needed to use the bathroom. And she _definitely_ needed to close those damn drapes.

Carefully, she slipped out of Santana's arm and pushed the sheets off her. She watched as Santana sighed and pulled her arm back towards her, tucking it under the pillow and falling right back into a deep sleep. Quinn quietly tiptoed to the curtains and pulled them closed, shutting out the unwanted light in the room. She turned and made her way to the bathroom. That's where she found her and Santana's clothes from the night before, strewn haphazardly along the ground leading from the hotel room door.

Stepping over her crumpled strapless bra, she crept into the bathroom as silently as possible. She borrowed some of Santana's toothpaste, spreading some across her finger and brushing her teeth as best she could with her makeshift toothbrush finger. She washed her face with the hotel soap and removed the smudge lines left from her eye makeup. Her hair looked like it had been through a war. Grimacing at the sight - but nonetheless content with the cause - she did her best to run her fingers through it and flatten it down as best she could. A moment or so later, she winced at the seemingly bombastic sound of the toilet flushing, hoping it didn't wake the sleeping girl. She poked her head out into the room and was relieved to see that the brunette was still sleeping soundly.

After one last check in the mirror, she decided that was as good as she was going to get. She left the bathroom light on for a little more light in the dark room and made her way back to bed.

Her arm grazed soft fabric as she passed by the dresser facing the bed, knocking something to the floor. Quinn looked down and saw it was Santana's t-shirt. She shook her head and smiled, amused that it had landed there when Santana tossed it aside the night before.

She bent over to pick up the article of clothing and place it back atop the dresser when something caught her eye. Underneath where the shirt had once been, three magazines were stacked one on top of the other. She reached out and picked them up with a frown. On the covers of two of them was Santana, flanked by the friends Quinn had met from the previous night. She furrowed her eyebrows as her eyes scanned the headlines. "Crossing Arizona: World Tour", "Crossing Arizona Back in the Studio. We've Got the First Listen".

She brought the third magazine to the top of the stack. This one had Santana on the cover by herself. Santana was singing into a bullhorn held up to a microphone on stage in front a large crowd. Her eyes were closed tightly, her nose scrunched like it did when she laughed. She looked like she was belting out one hell of a note. The headline read: "New Music From Crossing Arizona, an Exclusive Interview with lead singer Santana Lopez".

Quinn turned her head and stared at the woman sleeping naked on the bed across from her. Santana was the lead singer of Crossing Arizona? She was a musician? A _rock star_?

She looked back down at the magazines in a daze. She had slept with a celebrity? A one night stand with a stranger was a foreign enough concept... but this? This was something else. This was completely uncharted territory.

A million questions hit her all at once.

How could she not have known? Quinn had had her heads stuck in miles of medical textbooks sure, but she wasn't completely tuned out from the outside world. Crossing Arizona was on three of the biggest music magazines still in print, how could she have never stumbled across at least _one_ of them at the grocery store?

And then came the inescapable questions... Why her? If Santana was a rock star, she could have anyone she wanted. She was famous. Fame bred freedom of choice. So why would Santana have picked her over anyone else in that bar? Or was it just timing? Had she just been in the right place at the end of the rock star's night? Because, after all, that's what rock stars did, right? Wasn't that part of the rock star mantle? The ability to sleep with anyone they wanted at any time?

How many other women had Santana picked up and taken back to her hotel room over the years on the road?

Suddenly she felt embarrassed. Humiliated even. She felt small. Insignificant. Like she was just a number. Just a notch on a headboard. A distant, increasingly faint part of her screamed at her, telling her she was wrong, but it just didn't make sense. She felt, in a word: used.

Quinn forced back the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and put the magazines back where she found them. She glanced down feeling incredibly exposed. She started to panic. She needed to leave. She needed to leave before Santana woke up.

As quietly and as quickly as she could, she slipped on her dress and gathered the rest of her belongings. She tucked her coat, shoes, and clutch in her arms and made her way for the door, checking to make sure her phone was in her bag. Her hand paused on the door handle. Biting her lower lip, she turned to look at Santana. Her breathing was still slow and steady, her mouth opened slightly as she slept, oblivious to her hasty exit. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful.

Despite feeling used and humiliated, Quinn had a hard time believing that their night together had just been about meaningless sex. She was torn. In spite of her panic attack, she couldn't just leave Santana without saying_ something_.

Carefully, she made her way back over to the small table in the corner. She placed her shoes, coat, and clutch on a nearby chair and stooped over a hotel provided notepad and pen. There were notes scribbled on the top page, the bands studio schedule from what she could tell. She briefly wondered how she didn't notice the guitar propped in the corner of the room before now.

She grabbed the notepad and turned to the next page. It was there that she hesitated. She glanced over at the brunette and swallowed the lump in her throat. Before she could talk herself out of it, she jotted down a quick note.

She dropped the pen back on top of the pad and turned to scoop up her things from the chair. Santana stirred, freezing her in her tracks. After a few tense seconds, she was relieved to find Santana still asleep. She made a break for the hotel room door, flicking the bathroom light off as she went. The door made a terribly loud clacking sound, but she moved quickly through it. The "Do Not Disturb" sign swung back and forth as she closed it behind her and made her escape down the hallway, leaving Santana behind.

* * *

Santana inhaled deeply and stretched out her arm. She patted the empty spot on the bed next to her and let out a muffled whine into her pillow. It was too early and her bed was too empty. Slowly, she opened her eyes and lifted her head, turning to see where Quinn had gone. She squinted at the empty space beside and her and glanced around the room. It was quiet. Rolling on her back and letting her head drop back onto the pillow, Santana stretched her limbs and smirked at the soreness of her body. Besides the slight headache, she felt great.

She laid there motionless for a minute, staring up at the ceiling with a smile as she thought about the night before. It had been the best night she could remember having in a very long time. It was hard connecting with people out on the road and Quinn…well, Quinn had been perfect.

She glanced over at the clock and groaned. It really was way too early to be awake. She reached for the room service menu and scanned the choices, wondering what she should order and if Quinn would order the waffles.

More importantly, she sat up and thought suddenly, where _was_ Quinn? She cocked her head to the side and listened for any telltale signs that Quinn was somewhere else in the hotel room. It was quiet aside from the dull buzzing of the hotel HVAC. Pushing off the covers, she tossed the menu on the nightstand and trekked over to the bathroom. The door was open and the light was off. She frowned. Santana spun around and scanned the room once more. For a brief moment, she wondered if Quinn had run out for something and would come back through the door any minute now.

But something told her that she was wrong. Santana ran a hand through her hair. The blonde, she knew, had left.

She made her way back over to the bed and sat down. She rested her elbows on her knees and pushed her face in her hands. How had she not woken up when Quinn left? She _always_ woke up. It wasn't the first time she had been bailed on come the morning, but in nearly all of those cases she had been awake, feigning sleep, while they had made their escape. But Quinn... She thought for sure Quinn was different. They had talked about waking up together and having waffles!

Santana didn't understand. Did she _really_ just get used? But no, she thought just as quickly, that wasn't right. That wasn't Quinn. She didn't know her that well, of course, but she never thought that Quinn would be the type to…

"Oh, shit," she swore as a new, terrible realization overtook her. Did Quinn think Santana was just using _her_? She glanced behind her at the empty spot on the bed, unable to shake the thought. She somehow needed to explain. She needed to tell Quinn it wasn't about that. She needed to tell her that she didn't want just a one night stand. She needed to tell her _something_.

Santana reached for her phone and frowned as she remembered that she never got the blonde's number. Or her last name. She scrolled through her contacts, hoping she was wrong. Scrolling through her contacts, she stopped at Q. Nothing. She tossed her phone on the bed and checked under the pillows for a note, for anything. Nothing.

"Dammit!" she swore loudly into the room.

Santana fell back on the bed and threw her arm over her eyes. How could this have happened? And just as quickly as that thought had come, she started to kick herself. She _knew_ as soon as she left with Quinn last night that she was leaving herself wide open for something like this to happen. Unfortunately, she had reassured herself that with Quinn, it would be different.

Normally, when she hooked up with someone, she was the one that felt guilty about wanting nothing more than a night. Going into most nights like those, she knew that it wouldn't last beyond the night. That it meant nothing more than to lose herself in meaningless sex. But her night with Quinn _hadn't_ been meaningless. And she could've _sworn_ it hadn't been for Quinn either. She really liked her. She felt something with Quinn that she couldn't quite comprehend. Something she hadn't felt with anyone else. She couldn't explain it, but Santana knew for certain she hadn't wanted their chance encounter to end so soon.

Her phone buzzed and snapped Santana out of her thoughts. She reached for the device and unlocked the screen with a sigh. It was a text from Sam. She opened the message and sat up. Attached were the pictures from the previous night. Santana's stomach dropped as she stared down at the picture of them kissing. Quinn was grinning against her mouth, her hands tangled in her dark hair. Their eyes were closed and they were completely oblivious to Sam and his camera. Oblivious to the world around them.

She flicked her thumb to the side to show the next picture. Quinn smiled shyly, her body leaning in towards Santana, embarrassed at being caught. Santana looked annoyed. She snorted through her nose. Sam really did know how to capture the candid moments.

Santana went back to the first picture and stared down at it with a frown. Why did Quinn leave without at least saying goodbye?

* * *

Quinn opened the door to her apartment and was immediately hit with the smell of pancakes and bacon. She kicked off her shoes and held them as she stepped into the main room. Rachel's head turned at the sound of the door closing. "Quinn! Oh thank God," she said, bringing her hand to her chest in relief. Quinn smiled guiltily, knowing Rachel had sent her several texts and voicemails after she left the party. Texts and voicemails she never responded to. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," the blonde said with a sigh. She tossed her shoes on the couch and made her way to the kitchen. "Why are you up so early?"

Rachel shrugged and went back to flipping pancakes as Quinn leaned against the counter. "The best thing for a New Year's hangover is a nice breakfast." Quinn nodded and looked down at the skillet with a frown. "Hey, are you okay?"

Quinn lifted her eyes to Rachel's concerned look.

"Well, look who's back!" said Nick as he strode into the kitchen, grinning. He pulled up a stool at the counter and ducked his head to look up at the blonde. "So how was _your_ night?"

Quinn looked away.

"Nick!" Rachel hissed, shooting him a look. He turned to her with a confused look and then back at Quinn, who avoided his gaze and stared down at the bacon cooking in front of her. His face softened and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Rachel placed a glass of orange juice in front of him and went back to breakfast.

"I'm going to go grab a shower," Quinn said quietly.

Rachel opened her mouth to call after her, but she stopped short as Quinn stepped into her room and gently closed the door behind her. She shot Nick a scathing look.

"What?!"

A few minutes later, Quinn let the hot water wash over her and pushed her hair back away from her face. Her body relaxed and she sighed as she stood under the steady stream. She closed her eyes and, before she knew it, felt her mind wandering back to Santana.

_"I'm sorry about my friends," she said as they reached the door to the building. "They can be a little…intense."_

_Santana waved the comment aside and held the door open, allowing Quinn to step out on the street first. "They're just protective. And that's cool, you know? That they care."_

_They walked towards the curb at the edge of the sidewalk. Santana glanced at Quinn, a look of nervous excitement on her face. "I'm right over there," she said as she pointed towards the large hotel building on the other side of the street. "We just need to cross the sea of taxis."_

_Quinn nodded and looked over at the fancy building which was, thankfully, within walking distance. With all the party goers and traffic it would've been a nightmare to not only hail a cab, but to get to their destination. "I'm glad you're close. The temperature keeps dropping." Quinn shivered and wrapped her arms around her body. "How are you not freezing?"_

_Santana glanced at her from the corner of her eyes. "I may live in LA, but I'm _from_ Boston. This," she held out her arms, palms to the sky and tilted her head upwards, "'is nothing," she grinned._

_"Well, I'm still cold," Quinn admitted with a laugh._

_Santana pulled the blonde towards her and wrapped her arm around her shoulder, holding her close. She ran her hands up and down Quinn's arms to try and warm her. "Better?"_

_Quinn looked at Santana. Car horns were honking; people were yelling happily, some even singing, it was almost chaotic. Santana looked amused by it all. The corner of Quinn's lifted into a small smile. Santana really was beautiful._

_Quinn leaned into Santana's arms and enjoyed the warmth she found there as they waited for a gap in the traffic wide enough to make a dash across the street. Finally, Santana glanced over at her, a daring look in her eyes. "Are you ready?" Quinn nodded. "Okay, one… two…" Santana took a hold of Quinn's hand and lunged out into the street._

_Cars from both directions slammed on their brakes in the bumper-to-bumper New Year's traffic. Santana held up her hand in thanks as she carefully weaved them through the traffic, slamming her hand down on the hoods of the cars that came too close. When they reached the other side of the street, Santana grinned victoriously and turned towards the breathless blonde. "That was… frightening," Quinn laughed._

_Santana smirked. "Come on, let's get you warmed up."_

_Quinn blushed and dipped her head with a nod as the two walked towards the hotel, their hands still clasped together._

Resting her palms flat on the cold shower tile, she bowed her head and let the water fall down her neck and back. She couldn't help but wonder if she did the right thing by leaving. But she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that she had been used. That it would've ended badly and how awkward it might've been if she had stayed.

The idea of never seeing Santana again...

Before she could stop herself, tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the water pouring down from the shower above her. She let out a strangled cry and began to sob. Her entire body shook as everything she felt, every emotion bottled up inside, overtook her.

* * *

**A/N: Nothing was purposely left out or skipped. What happened in the hotel room ****_will_**** get told!**

**And as always, thank you for your kind words and feedback. It's so greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

The trio ate in awkward silence, with Rachel and Nick glancing up at Quinn periodically. The blonde picked at her food, eating little. Rachel and Nick shared a worried look. Finally, not able to take the silence any longer, Rachel pushed her plate away, cleared her throat loudly and looked straight at Quinn. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently when Quinn lifted her head up to look back.

Quinn shook her head and laughed humorously. She pushed a piece of pancake around her plate. "I really am an idiot, aren't I?" she asked, her eyes still on her plate.

"What?" Rachel asked, sharing a look with Nick. "Why would you think that?"

"I had _no_ idea who she was. How the hell could I not know who she was?" Quinn groaned. "You tried to tell me last night, didn't you? You both knew." Rachel sank in her seat with a guilty look. "It's okay," Quinn shrugged, her eyes dropped back to her plate. "You tried to tell me and I wouldn't listen." Quinn shook her head. "I'm so stupid."

"Quinn what happened?" Rachel asked worriedly. "Did she hurt you?"

Quinn shook her head. "No, she was great. _Really_ great actually." Rachel looked at Nick who shrugged. Quinn dropped her fork and buried her face in her hands. "I can't believe I slept with a rock star."

"How was it?" Nick asked playfully. Rachel jabbed him the side with her elbow. "Ow!"

"I had to do the walk of shame out of her hotel. And every single one of those people who worked there saw me with her last night. And again this morning, alone, in that dumb dress," Quinn moaned. "It was mortifying."

"It's not a walk of shame," Rachel said reassuringly.

"Yeah," Nick agreed rubbing his ribs. "It's the stride of pride!"

"And to make it worse? I had to take a cab. And the cabbie kept grinning at me in the rear view mirror, asking me if I enjoyed myself last night." Quinn leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh. "I'm so humiliated."

Rachel furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't understand. Did she kick you out? She could've offered you a change of clothes. Or at least a ride home," she muttered.

Quinn shook her head and ran a hand through her wet hair. "I left before she woke up." Rachel's eyes went wide. "I panicked," she explained quickly when she saw the horrified look Rachel was giving her. "The idea of waiting around until she woke up and then having to make awkward, post one-night stand conversation over breakfast just freaked me out. What if it had been pity breakfast? I couldn't deal with that."

"I just don't get it," Nick said, shaking his head. "Haven't you ever heard of Crossing Arizona?"

"I have," Quinn said nodding. "I mean, I've heard their stuff on the radio. When their songs come on I know the band, but I've never seen them. I didn't know their names or what they looked like. I've been pretty invested in studying the past two years. I don't go out and buy music magazines or search the internet for band's pictures."

"Okay, sure, I get _that..._" Nick started, "but what I don't get is, if you didn't know who she was last night, how did you find out between then and now?"

"There were magazines on the dresser. She was on the cover. I saw them this morning before she woke up," Quinn explained.

"But... Nobody recognized her or came up to her at the bar?" Rachel asked with some exasperation. "I mean... How did this not come up?"

"It did. Several times actually. I was just too dumb to see it," Quinn groaned. "I'm so stupid! People were excited to see her... studio time with Blaine Anderson... introducing me to Ellie Goulding," she recalled in frustration. "I just figured she was a producer or a personal assistant or a celebrity writer or _something_."

"You met Ellie Goulding?" Rachel asked enviously. "I didn't know she was there." She turned towards Nick with wide eyes. "Did you know she was there?" Nick shook his head no, not really caring either way.

Quinn sighed and rubbed her eyes. "She must've thought I was so dense. Going back to her hotel and sleeping with her having _no_ idea who she was."

Rachel's expression softened. "Well, maybe not." Quinn arched an eyebrow. "I mean, maybe she liked that you didn't know what she did for a living. Otherwise she would've told you, right?" Rachel reasoned. "Maybe she liked being with you because she could have a relatively normal night with someone who wasn't hanging around her just because she was famous." Quinn frowned. She hadn't thought about that. "And who knows," Rachel continued, "maybe she doesn't do this sort of thing all the time like you think she does."

"Oh, I bet she does," Nick said with a snort.

Both women turned to look at him with different expressions. Quinn looked devastated and Rachel seemed as if she were going to rip him apart. "_So _not helping," she hissed.

Quinn looked back down at her plate, torn on how she was feeling. She had assumed Santana had used her. But what if Rachel was right? Santana had had many opportunities to make sure Quinn knew she was in a band, that she was a singer, and that she was relatively famous. But she never mentioned it once or even came close to sounding as if she was going to. Instead, she had diverted the topic to something else.

So, if Rachel was right, maybe all Santana wanted was to be with someone who didn't know what she did for a living. Was there anything wrong in that?

She sighed heavily. Even if that were the case, it didn't make her feel any less humiliated or used. Santana still should've told her.

"Why don't you call her?" Nick suggested. "It can't get any weirder, right?"

Quinn shook her head. "I didn't get her number. And I can't go back to the hotel. She won't be there anyway. From what I saw of her schedule, she's going to be in the studio all week. Besides," she said with a sad smile, "what would I say to her when I got there anyway? 'Thanks for an unforgettable night and the mind blowing sex. By the way, can we talk about how I _didn't_ know you were famous? And can I have your number so I can pine over you like a lost puppy while you go off touring the world and sleeping with other oblivious women?'" She stood from the table and looked down at her friends. "I just want to pretend like it never happened, okay?"

The couple watched as Quinn went back into her room and closed the door behind her. Rachel turned towards Nick with a worried look. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. "She'll be okay," he assured her. Rachel nodded. Nick's lips turned upwards into a slow smile. "I _knew_ Santana Lopez was a tiger in the sack!" Rachel pushed Nick's hand off her shoulder and shoved him away with a scowl. He laughed and turned back to his plate to finish his breakfast.

* * *

Santana entered the studio control room and smiled. Jesse was hunched over the computer with his headphones on, bobbing his head to a beat she couldn't hear. She stepped up closer to him and smirked when he jumped slightly upon noticing she was there. "Finalizing?" she asked once he had taken the studio cans off.

"You know me," Jesse said with a chuckle. "Is it ten already?"

Santana shook her head, reaching up to pull off her grey stocking cap. "Nah, I'm just a little early." Jesse checked his watch and raised his eyebrows. She was over an hour early. "You mind if I…?" she motioned towards the studio with her guitar case.

"No, go ahead," he said, reaching for his headphones to get back to work. "If you need me, just wave."

Santana smirked and opened the heavy door to the studio. She put her guitar case on the floor near one of the stools and shrugged off her coat. She tossed it on the piano bench and carefully placed her Starbucks coffee cup next to it, regretting it as soon as she put the cup down. _It's freezing in here_, she thought, rubbing her hands together vigorously.

When she could feel her fingers again, she opened the case and pulled out the black Martin acoustic inside, carefully tuning it by ear. Within a minute, she was thinking about a discarded silver dress on the floor of her hotel room and her hands wandering over smooth, creamy skin. She thought about shining hazel eyes hovering above her and swollen lips skimming across her body. And then she thought about the disappointed feeling in the pit of her stomach when she woke up alone.

Santana closed her eyes and absent-mindedly strummed a few chords, lost in the memory of a mysterious blonde.

"Well, somebody's here early," Puck commented as he flopped down on the couch across from Santana, making her jump in surprise. She must've zoned out longer than she thought for Puck to be strolling in. "I still don't know why we have to work on a holiday. Even retail stores have today off," he muttered. She continued to stare at her hands as her fingers strummed lightly over her guitar strings. "Kind of surprised you're here actually." He grinned lopsidedly. "After taking that blonde back to your room, we figured you'd be holed up all day. We were expecting you to bail."

"Yeah, you have no idea how hard it was to keep _this_ guy from sending you crude texts," Mike said nodding in Puck's direction. He placed his bass guitar case on the floor next to Santana's and unzipped his jacket.

"Hey, first one to dip is bound to get shit. You guys do it to me all the time," he reminded everyone.

Santana ignored the conversation and continued to strum her guitar.

Sam wandered through the studio doors and stopped next to the brunette. He listened as she played, tilting his head to the side curiously as he watched her.

"It's about time you got laid, Lopez." Puck yawned. "When was the last time you had a one-nighter?"

"The waitress in Des Moines," Mike volunteered as he sipped from his tall coffee.

"Oh yeah! That was like, what? Four months ago?" Puck chugged his Red Bull and stretched out, crossing one foot and then the other over the arm of the sofa. He rolled his head to the side and watched Santana for a moment, curiously. "What are you playing over there anyway?" he asked, not familiar with the tune.

Santana's fingers stilled and she turned her head to look at Puck, her eyebrow arched. "No, don't stop," Sam said from beside her. Without removing his jacket, he reached for his acoustic guitar and pulled up a stool next to the brunette. "Play that again," he instructed, facing her.

Santana shrugged and started picking the chord again. Sam nodded his head to the beat for a few measures before he plucked along with her, adding a few chord shifts in on the fly. Soon they had created a beautiful, yet rough, first draft of a brand new piece of music.

"You kids keep playing. I'm gonna go find some more Red Bull," Puck said, rolling off the couch.

"I'll come with," Mike said, leaving the room with Puck. Santana had the quiet and thoughtful expression that usually meant she wanted some space to concentrate. He was happy to oblige.

Sam crossed his hands over the top of his guitar and he looked over at the brunette. "You wanna talk about it?" he asked gently.

Santana lifted her eyes and swallowed roughly at Sam's openly genuine expression. She shook her head and gently placed her guitar back in its case.

"It sounds kind of sad," he commented on their new song, trying a different approach. "Does it have anything to do with Brittany?"

Santana laughed bitterly and reached for her coffee resting on the piano bench. "No, not Brittany," she assured him. "Not _everything_ is about Brittany."

Sam watched her carefully. "Is it about last night, then?" Santana took a long sip of the luke-warm liquid and avoided Sam's concerned look. Her lack of response was answer enough. Sam nodded knowingly. "What happened?"

Santana's shrugged. "We had a great time and then she left."

"Without saying goodbye?" Sam guessed. Santana lifted her eyebrows in confirmation. He let out a long, sympathetic breath. He knew the feeling. "Ouch."

"Ouch indeed," Santana agreed.

He watched her closely. "You seemed to really like her."

"I did." Santana shrugged again. "Too bad for me it wasn't mutual." She reached for her guitar again, not wanting to continue the conversation. She hoped Sam would get the point.

He continued to watch her play for a moment, knowing it was best if he let the subject drop. It had taken her a long time to get over Brittany. To see her hurting again upset him a lot. But he knew when to drop and when to push and now was not the time to push. "Think you can write some lyrics to go with that music?"

Santana's eyes met his and he smiled at her softly. She nodded, lyrics already swirling in her mind, and his smile grew. Despite her mood, she couldn't help but return the gesture. Sam had that affect on her. He just always seemed to _know_.

"Well, I'm going to go bring Puck and Mike in here again so we can get this thing finished and approve some tracks. I'll grab you some warm coffee." He stood up, put his guitar back on its stand and gave Santana another warm smile.

Santana watched him leave the studio and sighed.

* * *

Santana really needed to shower. She knew she should, but what was the point? She was just going to hole up in her hotel room for the rest of the night, so it didn't really matter to her if she took one or not. What she really needed was a drink.

Eyeing the half full bottle of whiskey on her dresser, she placed her guitar on the chair at the corner table and made her way over. She glanced down at the magazines stacked on the surface and sighed as she picked up the bottle of Jack and brought it back to the table. She picked the acoustic back up by the neck and poured herself a nice-sized drink in the paper cup she had used for coffee earlier.

Santana took a long, burning sip and sat down again, the guitar across her lap. Her throat felt scratchy. The liquid trailed a slow, fiery path down to the pit of her stomach. It was time to do some work. She leaned back, pulled the guitar neck up close to her chest and started plucking the chords she and Sam had worked on. The lyrics began to spin in her head again.

Their producer, Jesse, had loved the music she and Sam had come up with that morning in the studio. He had given it the green light for lyrics and told Santana he was curious to hear how the rest of it would play out. In other words: if the lyrics were as good as the music, this new song would likely be the final piece of the new album. So they hoped, anyway.

Santana took another sip of her Jack and reached out to place it on the table. Her eyes glanced at the pad of hotel paper and her hand froze, the cup hovering just over the surface of the table. There was a neatly scrawled message on the front page that she'd never seen before. Maybe Quinn said goodbye afterall.

She put the cup down and slowly reached for the pad of paper as if she were imagining it. The handwriting was beautiful; perfect even. She ran her eyes over the single line.

_It's a shame you're a dream…_

One sentence.

Six words.

Twenty letters.

It didn't make any sense.

Santana carefully placed her guitar behind her, propping it up against the wall as she stared at the note. _It's a shame you're a dream._ She wondered what the hell Quinn meant by that. Was that her cryptic way of saying "thanks for a lovely evening"?

Whatever the blonde's intentions, the message screamed regret. And that hurt.

A million thoughts and doubts seemed to converge and bump against each other in her head. What had she done wrong? Or, better yet, she thought, what could she have done differently that might not have driven Quinn off? "Shit," she exhaled.

She had thought their night was perfect. But then she had awoken to an empty bed and, later, a note. The whole thing deeply confused and upset her more than she'd previously thought possible.

Santana ripped the page off of the notepad and quickly turned it around. Maybe there was more to it…

Nothing. She flipped through the rest of the notepad. It was blank. No other messages or explanations.

Part of Santana was relieved that Quinn had left her _something_, but the other part of her was irritated that all that remained of their time together was a riddle. She didn't know if Quinn expected her to know the meaning, if it even had one, or if she was supposed figure it out on her own. _She couldn't have just left her phone number?_

Santana ran a hand through her hair. She lifted the cup off the table and took another sip, her eyes never leaving the single sentence staring back at her.

After what seemed like hours, she placed the note back down on the table along with her empty cup. It was all so overwhelming. She wasn't sure how to process it all.

Maybe she could use that shower after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**JANUARY 3, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY - RECORDING STUDIO**

Santana knocked the snow off of the sleeves of her jacket and pushed off her hood before reaching out to open the low profile studio door. The snow had been falling constantly for hours now, slowing the entire city to a lazy crawl. Not that Santana particularly minded; her hotel was only a few blocks away and there was a Starbucks next door. The walk over had been eerily quiet for New York. She loved it.

She stamped her shoes on the thick lobby carpet slightly cursing herself for not wearing her boots. She crossed over to the studio's control room. There was an older, balding man seated in the black leather controller's chair. "Hey Barry," Santana said and smiled at Blaine's manager, who looked up from his phone and smiled back. "You guys beat me in, huh? And here I thought I was early."

Barry shrugged and gestured with his chin to the live room behind him. "Go on in, doll. He's just putzing around." Santana nodded and waved a thanks as she pulled the heavy live room door open.

"Good morning," Blaine chirped happily from the piano.

"Morning," she yawned.

"You're looking as radiant as ever," he commented with a smile.

Santana shot him a look. She was wearing a hoodie under a light winter jacket and a ripped pair of jeans. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun. She still had on her moccasin slippers. If anything, she looked as though she just rolled out of bed. "Not enough coffee in this world could make me as giddy as you in the mornings."

Blaine threw his head back and laughed. They knew each other well enough to know which of them was the morning person and which of them was most assuredly not. Blaine felt only slightly guilty for dragging her out of bed so early. "So what's the rest of Crossing Arizona doing today?"

"Sleeping in," Santana mumbled as she leaned against the piano and stretched. "Then they have to lay down some instrumental tracks for a new song."

Blaine nodded and continued to play impromptu on the piano. "I'm really, _really_ excited to be working on this project with you. And I'm honored that you pulled yourself out of bed to be here."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Blaine. You've thanked me like a hundred times. I'm the one that should be thanking you, remember? Even if I am losing precious sleep to do it."

"Well, in any case, I'm glad it worked out." He flashed Santana a charming smile. "Speaking of laying down tracks, how's your album coming? You mentioned you had a new track. Isn't it dropping in March? How much do you have left?"

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as she brought her coffee cup up to her lips. "We'll find out tomorrow. The record company is sending an exec down to preview the final track."

"Ouch," Blaine winced. Watching a record suit and tie listen to your music - your very _personal_ music - and waiting for their thumbs up or thumbs down was excruciatingly stressful. Santana often joked that it was like being a gladiator waiting for a thumbs up or thumbs down from the emperor after a fight. When other people determined your fate, it wasn't exactly a stress-free day at the office.

"Yeah, no kidding," Santana said with a sigh. "Either way, I have a flight out of here Saturday morning. We have to finalize the album artwork in LA on Monday. If they don't like the track, I guess we'll be finishing up out there."

Blaine frowned. "That's cutting it awfully close." He pulled his hands away from the piano keys.

Santana snorted. "No shit," she agreed. "Such is the biz." She reached for her sheet music resting on top of the piano and ran her eyes over the lyrics. She had been rehearsing here and there on her own when she had the time. Blaine really had composed a fantastic song. He was a great song writer and to have the title track to a major blockbuster, like Iron Man 3, was such an honor. When he had called her several weeks ago to ask if she would be interested in having a featured part on the track, she didn't hesitate in telling him yes.

Santana glanced at her watch. "What time is the band getting here?"

"Oh, they're already around here somewhere. But I thought we could run through this just you and me a few more times before we brought them in. Does that work for you?"

Santana shrugged. "Studio musicians are a rare breed. They may not need the extra run-throughs but I sure as shit won't turn them down." She pulled herself away from the piano and took a seat on a stool across from Blaine. She brought the sheet music with her, shrugging off her jacket. She tossed it aside.

Blaine laughed and nodded his head. "Very true."

Santana finished her coffee and threw the cup in the nearby trashcan, trading out for the bottle of water Blaine tossed her way. She perched on the edge of the stool and placed the sheet music on the stand. "Did Kurt have a good time New Years?" she asked. "He seems like a nice guy."

"Kurt had an amazing time. He loves to mingle and meet new people. What about you? Did you have an enjoyable New Years?" Blaine asked with a knowing smile.

Santana nodded and continued to scan over the music, despite knowing it by heart. "I did. Very memorable." She looked up. "Anything specific you have in mind for me?"

Blaine grinned. "Just belt it like you usually do." His fingers danced over the keys yet again. "Ready to warm up?"

Santana smirked. This was going to be fun.

* * *

**JANUARY 7, 2013 – NEW YORK PRESBYTERIAN HOSPITAL**

Allison sighed. "And here we are again," she said as she leaned against the counter of the nurses' station.

Quinn smiled and looked up from the newspaper one of the nurses had let her borrow. She brought her coffee cup to her lips and nodded. "So it seems," she said before taking a long sip. The rest of their group stood around impatiently, making idle chit-chat as they waited for their morning rounds to start.

The two shared a smile. Quinn turned back to the newspaper and finished scanning the article she had been reading. "Did you do anything exciting over the break?" Allison asked.

Quinn hesitated. She thought back to New Year's Eve, to Santana's smile and being tangled in her embrace. The memories still made her chest ache. She shook her head and glanced over at the girl with a forced smile. "It was quiet. You?"

Allison shrugged. "My brother took me out to dinner at this awesome Italian restaurant on New Years and then made me go to this party downtown. It was crazy. But we did watch the ball drop from the roof. That was kind of neat."

Quinn folded the newspaper neatly and handed it back to the nurse sitting at the computer. "Sounds like fun," she said, drinking the last of her coffee.

"The restaurant was pretty nice. If you like Italian food," Allison added. "Maybe sometime if you want a break from studying we could try it out."

Quinn's smile faltered and she quickly tried to hide the fact that she'd just been thrown. She knew Allison liked her. This wasn't the first time she'd been flirty and invited Quinn out. But Quinn had always come up with an excuse whenever Allison asked. It was reflex at this point. She had almost convinced herself that she didn't have time for a love life. Almost.

It wasn't as though Allison wasn't attractive; she was. Especially today, now that Quinn really noticed. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her brown, almond eyes stared shyly in her direction. Her mother was Korean and her father a good ole' boy from Texas. She had beautiful skin and cute dimples. No, she was definitely not lacking in the attractive department.

The truth was, Quinn was intrigued by Allison. Occasionally, she had even considered taking her up on one of her offers to spend time together outside of school.

But now, Quinn's every thought turned towards Santana. The idea of going out with someone else made her stomach turn. She just wasn't ready.

She looked up from her musings and saw Allison was still looking at her expectantly. "Maybe some other time," she finally answered with the warmest smile she could muster. Allison started to open her mouth to say something when their instructor suddenly walked up to the group. Quinn let out a quiet sigh of relief for the interruption. "Let's catch up after class," she added quickly.

Allison's crestfallen expression didn't go unnoticed by Quinn. In fact, it only made her feel worse.

* * *

**JANUARY 15, 2013 – LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA**

Santana scanned the tables outside of the café. Being a Tuesday morning, the place wasn't too busy, but she still had to pick through a sizeable crowd to spot who she was looking for. Finally, she found her. Santana smiled and made her way over.

Bright blue eyes turned in her direction, noticing her approach. When the girl saw her coming, her eyes lit up and she stood, letting out an excited squeal as she did. In an instant, she had Santana in a bear hug. "I'm so happy to see you! I feel like it's been ages!"

"Agreed," Santana laughed warmly as they pulled apart and gave the girl a once over. "You look great."

"Thank you," she blushed. "As do you."

Santana reached in her purse and pulled out a magazine. The other girl looked down at the cover, saw herself on it and blushed deeply. "Marley Rose, can you please sign my copy of InStyle?" Santana asked, doing her best impression of an obsessed fan.

Marley rolled her eyes and made a face. "Oh, please, _please_ stop," she implored, sitting back down.

Santana followed suit. "Seriously though, this is a big deal! I'm so proud of you!"

"Thank you," Marley said, shyly ducking her head.

The waiter came by and took their order. Both girls ordered a light brunch and coffee.

"How was New York?"

"Cold," Santana said with a laugh. "When are you going back?"

"I have a shoot next week and then I go to London for a shoot."

"I'm really jealous," Santana said with a slight pout.

The waiter came back and put their coffees down in front of them. Both girls thanked him and eagerly pulled their coffee towards them. Marley reached for the cream and sugar while Santana picked up her mug, gently blowing on the hot liquid within.

They both fell quiet.

After a few awkwardly silent sips of coffee, Santana lifted her eyes at the other girl, knowing what was on her mind. Lately, it seemed to be one of their most commonly talked about subjects. The way Marley was chewing at her lower lip, Santana knew she was working on how to phrase the question. She thought about putting her out of her misery and just answering, but she smirked around the edge of her mug, waiting to see how Marley would initiate the conversation this time. _It's more fun this way_, she thought wickedly.

She waited patiently, watching as Marley's brows furrowed in thought as she slowly stirred in three sugar packets. "So," Marley started finally. "Have you heard from Brittany lately?"

And there it was.

Santana sighed and placed her mug on the matching dish. She looked around aimlessly at the people surrounding them. "I got an email from her a couple weeks ago," she said with a shrug. "And she called me on New Year's. But I think she forgot that Tokyo is fourteen hours ahead. I got a nice little wakeup call at ten in the morning."

"You got one too, huh?" Marley asked, wincing. "It was seven here. So consider yourself lucky."

Santana laughed. "Good point. She never was good with time zones." She looked up again to see Marley was studying her, wearing an expression Santana was getting really tired of seeing on her friend's faces. "Stop," she said firmly. "I know what that look means and I'm fine." Marley sighed and looked down at the table. "It's been like nine months! I'm _fine_," Santana insisted.

Marley absent-mindedly traced the rim of her coffee mug with her finger. "I know, but I can't help but worry about you. You two were together for like five years."

"Four and a half," Santana corrected. She reached for her coffee and took a long sip. Her eyes looked over the rim at Marley, still watching her with a look of pity. She laughed and shook her head. "Marley stop giving me the puppy eyes. You'll be the first one to know whenever I'm not fine, okay? I promise."

Marley nodded and picked at the table cloth. "I think she really misses you."

Santana's expression softened. The waiter returned with their food. Santana smiled politely and held off on her response until he had left them alone once again. "I miss her too. But it wasn't working. We're better off as friends. We both know that. And it's okay." Marley smiled sadly. "Enough about me. What about you? How is your relationship going?" Santana asked, arching an eyebrow.

Marley blushed, just like she always did when she thought or talked about Jake. "It's good."

Santana laughed and reached for her fork to cut her omelet. She knew she wouldn't get much more out of her than that. "Jake is a lucky guy. You are quite the catch."

"Yeah, well, it took you long enough to notice," Marley laughed.

Santana nodded in agreement. "You know, I always knew I picked the wrong sister," she said with a wink.

Spending time with Marley made her feel better. Even when Marley was just Brittany's tag-a-long kid sister, Santana had always enjoyed her company. When things fell apart with Brittany, she was grateful that Marley stayed such a big part of her life.

Meeting up with her was just what she needed after her emotional trip to New York. She sighed contentedly as she listened to the girl outline her upcoming London modeling shoot. She was glad to be back with her friend. She was glad to be back in LA.

* * *

**JANUARY 23, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

"He's just so ridiculous. He has all these directions that make absolutely no sense." Quinn tossed a box of Nutri-Grain bars into their shopping cart as she listened. "He's directed next to nothing substantial. I don't know how he got hired as Russell's temporary replacement."

"Well maybe he's sleeping with the producer," Quinn supplied as they slowly continued down the grocery story aisle.

Quinn's lip turned upwards in a smile at the disgusted sound Rachel made in response. "I wouldn't put it past him. He's a weasel of a man. Just wretched. Anyway, I know Russell is out for a few months due to his bypass surgery, but I don't know how much longer I can stand this new director. If my show goes under I am going straight to my union representative."

Quinn sighed as they rounded the corner to the next aisle. Grocery shopping with Rachel was exhausting. At least the store wasn't crowded. "Do we need more Ziploc freezer bags?" Quinn asked as her eyes scanned the shelves.

"Yes. Gallon and quart-sized. You grab those and I'll hunt down the trash bags." Rachel pushed the cart forward, leaving Quinn to stare at the Ziploc bag options. There seemed to be millions of the things. Finally, she spotted the kind that she vaguely remembered seeing in the kitchen. Neither girl cooked very often, but Rachel liked to be prepared regardless.

She turned around and made her way over to the cart, her head turning towards the rows of magazines next to the bags. She hesitated slightly, her mind telling her to continue to the cart and not to scan the faces of the celebrities donning the covers. But she couldn't stop herself. Her eyes quickly moved from cover to cover until they landed on the one face she was searching for.

"I never know what brand of trash bags to get. Do I get the odor free? Or the double lined? Extra strength or no tear? Why do they give you so many options? It's just trash!" Rachel shook her head as she looked from box to box. "Did you get the Ziploc bags?" Rachel waited for an answer but was only met with silence. "Quinn?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder when she still got no response.

Quinn's back was to her, the two boxes of baggies tucked under one arm. Rachel sighed. She stepped away from the cart and went to her friend, peering around her and looking down. Quinn ran her fingers slowly down the spine of the magazine; Santana on the cover.

Rachel looked up at Quinn and put her hand on her shoulder. She gently took the Ziploc bags and hooked her arm through Quinn's. "Come on. I'll let you pick the wine."

Quinn stared at the magazine for another long moment. Finally, she placed it back on the shelf and let Rachel lead her away.

* * *

**JANUARY 25, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

She was exhausted. School and studying had once again taken over her life and she missed sleep. She _really_ missed sleep.

Making her way to her apartment, Quinn reveled in the fact that it was Friday. She finally had a weekend to relax; Rachel and Nick were leaving for the weekend. She had the apartment to herself.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, dropping her bags and purse on the floor just inside the doorway and her keys in the bowl by the entrance. She smiled at the note neatly placed on the end table and picked it up.

_Quinn,_

_Not sure how cell phone service will be up in the mountains, but I've left the bed and breakfast number on the fridge if you need me. I've laid out all the take-out menus on the counter for you and sorted them by alphabetical order and origin._

_Try to relax this weekend! You deserve it!_

_-Rach_

Quinn sighed and shook her head, more amused than anything. Rachel could certainly be a little intense and overly mother-like, but her intentions were good. Quinn was grateful to have such a caring friend.

She stepped into the kitchen and raised her eyebrows at the dozen and a half menus laid out side by side. Quinn laughed and looked over the fanned out menus. Sure enough, Rachel had gone and arranged them all by category - Chinese, Italian, Mexican, Thai...

Her eye caught something colorful at the end of the endless menu line stretching across their counter. She put Rachel's note down and moved in closer to see what it was. Lying as neatly displayed as the menus was the magazine from the grocery store. And the same magazine she had found in the hotel room. There was Santana on the cover, singing into the bullhorn. The words "Exclusive Interview" scrawled in bold letters just as she remembered.

Amidst a sudden rush of thoughts, one of her firsts wondering how long Rachel must have agonized over buying the magazine. The thought of her standing there in the aisle weighing whether or not her friend would actually want to see it, amused her slightly.

Yet seeing Santana still sent a rush of nervous adrenalin through her entire body. Her hands shook as she reached out towards the magazine, just as they had in the store. And just as they had in the hotel room. She let her hands fall on either side of the magazine, pressing her palms flat on the countertop.

Did she really want to read the article? Did she really want to know more about the woman she had walked out on? She closed her eyes, internally debating.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed the magazine and opened it, flipping maybe a little too frantically towards the pages Santana filled. Her eyes scanned over the large color print that matched the cover and then immediately to the rest of the pictures; two of Santana on stage and one of her in the studio hunched over a notebook, scribbling down lyrics. She was so beautiful, despite looking a little worn down in them. _Life on the road, I guess_, Quinn mused.

She drew her attention to the article itself and felt a knot in her stomach begin to grow. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to find. Her greatest fear was reading that Santana was in a committed relationship, validating that their night together more than likely meant nothing. She didn't know if she could handle that.

The article began:

_Breakout foursome Crossing Arizona have just finished a sweltering showcase performance to support their critically adored debut album, _County Lines_. For Arizona's frontrunner, Santana Lopez, it's been a brutal, blissful blur of a welcome wagon ever since its release two years ago. We got a change to sit down with the country's preeminent rock goddess about their still untitled sophomore album._

Quinn drank in the words, absorbing everything hungrily. There was so much she didn't know about the enigmatic brunette. The fact that she was learning about her from an article in _SPIN_ magazine was a little strange.

Her pulse quickened as she poured through the pages, done predominantly in Question and Answer style. She drank in the woman's responses; finding how desperately she wanted to know Santana. From how she met the rest of the band, life on the road, her musical influences...she wanted to know everything.

Quinn's breath caught in her throat as she came to the next questions:

**_You went through a drawn out break-up fairly recently. Did that impact your music on this album?_**

_Of course it did. Sam and I both went through very public and very long break-ups. It's hard enough doing something like that in private, but for the whole world to know about it? It sucks. And it hurts. You're separating from someone you care very deeply for. The best way to get through that is to let it out and learn and grow from it. So we wrote a lot of lyrics, a lot of music about how we were feeling and, you know, what we were going through. So yeah, it definitely comes across on some of the songs on this album._

**_Would you say the break-ups are the main inspiration behind the new record?_**

_Not necessarily. I mean, yeah, of course there are couple songs that relate to it. It was a big part of my life and I'm sure it was for Sam too. But we were also touring with our debut album and got a lot of positive feedback and that was awesome. Traveling the world, meeting fans, making it on the radio, that was huge for us! So we pull from everything, the good and the bad._

The word **break-up** stood out as if it were in big, bright, bold letters. Quinn felt giddy, happy, excited… Santana was single. And then, just as quickly as the elation had come, it evaporated and was replaced by a growing feeling of regret.

Had Quinn made a terrible assumption that morning in the hotel? Learning who Santana was the way she had, she had automatically assumed the worst. That she had been used. That someone like Santana couldn't possibly be single and that she had just been a warm body the rock star had found out on the road.

Now, she was even less sure that that had ever been the case. And she was even more sure that she had made a huge, huge mistake.

* * *

**JANUARY 28, 2013 – LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA**

The van pulled up in front of a large building and came to a stop as the front tire scraped along the curb. "Everybody out!" Will called out happily from the front seat. Will was a good manager and someone they were all happy to be teamed up with. Sometimes Santana wasn't sure how he managed to put up with them. She admittedly realized she and the boys could act like immature children at times. He had the patience of a saint. "We're early," Will said, turning around in his seat to look at them. "Let me go in first to check in."

Puck was the first to hop out. But before his feet even touched the payment, he spotted a trio of girls in short skirts walking past the van. "Hello ladies," he said charmingly.

Santana was close behind. "Get your ass out of my face, Puckerman," she swore and shoved him out of the vehicle.

Puck tumbled out of the van and stared up the length of the building, not missing a beat. "This place is huge! Are you sure there's a radio station up there somewhere?"

"I'm positive," Will said as he ushered them towards the entrance. "Come on, let's get inside."

"SiriusXM was bigger," Mike said, stepping out of the van, Sam right behind him.

"That's what she said!" Puck shouted as he pushed past Will towards the automatic sliding doors.

"He doesn't have to go on air with us, does he?" Sam asked Santana as they stepped into the lobby together.

Santana smirked. "Just turn his mic off and let him think he's answering the questions."

Sam's smile grew. "Like we did in Chicago?"

Santana casually shrugged. "Best interview we've ever done."

"I'm checking in, you all just wait right here," Will instructed, waving at the lobby's lounge area. "No wandering off. We're on a tight schedule," he said with a pointed look at Puck.

Santana pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head and checked her phone to make sure her ringer was off. She was just about to check her texts when she felt someone bump into her from behind. She twisted around sharply to glare at a well-dressed young man, who was clearly in a rush.

"Oh, excuse me," he said, glancing up briefly from his phone. He didn't wait for a response. He just kept moving past her towards the sliding glass doors.

"No problem," Santana mumbled. She watched him wave his free hand at the motion detector and stride out through the open doors and onto the street.

_The doorman nodded his head in greeting as he held the door for the two women entering the hotel. Quinn smiled and thanked him as Santana gently tugged her onwards._

_A drunken man in a business suit passed, his shoulder bumping into Santana's roughly, knocking her slightly off balance. "Hey!" she snapped, turning her attention towards him with a glare._

_He tipped his invisible hat and tried to bow. "Excuse me," he said with a drunken smile. Santana gave him a once over but her attention was pulled away when Quinn squeezed her hand._

_"This place is amazing," Quinn noted as she looked around the elaborate lobby._

_Santana smiled at the blonde, the drunken man completely forgotten, and led her towards the elevators. She pressed the up button and faced the blonde. Quinn looked around the hotel nervously, gripping her clutch tightly under her arm. Santana squeezed her hand and the blonde turned towards her._

_Santana briefly wondered if she should ask Quinn if she was sure; if she really wanted to do this. She opened her mouth to ask but the loud "ding!" signaling the elevator's arrival interrupted her. _

_Quinn turned to the opening doors, frozen as she stared at the empty elevator. Santana squeezed her hand again but didn't move. She waited until Quinn turned back towards her, which she did. She arched her eyebrow questionably. This was it. It was now or never._

_With a slow smile, Quinn backed into the elevator, pulling the other girl inside with her._

_Once inside, Santana stuck her key inside the card reader. She pressed the button beside the number 8 and watched the doors slowly close._

_She felt confident hands pull her and a body press into her own. A cool hand reached up and caressed her cheek. Santana turned and had just enough time to grin as Quinn pressed her mouth to hers and kissed her roughly._

_Santana's hands fell to Quinn's waist and stepped into her, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss._

_Quinn's fingers dug into Santana's face, her adrenalin taking over, pushing the excitement through her entire body._

_Santana wanted to lift her up, to have Quinn wrap her body around her own. Instead, she settled for pushing her against the back of the elevator, pinning her against the wall with her body. They kissed as the elevator crawled upwards, passing each floor with a small ding until it eventually stopped on the eighth floor. The doors slid open, unnoticed by both, until a low, deep sound pierced through their haze._

_Santana glanced behind her. Quinn peered over her shoulder and immediately blushed. Santana stepped away from the blonde and casually straightened her jacket. Quinn ducked her head, embarrassed as she avoided eye contact with the middle-aged man who stood waiting to get on the elevator._

_"Sorry," Santana said as seriously as she could muster. However, it proved difficult since the smile wouldn't leave her face. She reclaimed Quinn's hand and led them out of the elevator and into the posh hallway._

_Santana pulled Quinn towards her and leaned in. "I'm not sorry by the way," she clarified before pressing their lips together._

"San, you coming?" Mike asked again, shaking Santana gently by the shoulder.

"What? I... Yeah," she said in a daze. She turned towards Mike, who was watching her curiously.

"You okay?" he asked.

Santana glanced at the door in inhaled deeply. "Yeah, I'm good." She offered Mike a smile and walked with him towards the elevators.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind words and reviews. I really do appreciate them all. And thank you so much for reading. We're just getting started. **


	7. Chapter 7

**FEBRUARY 4, 2013 – NYC - HEALTH AND SCIENCES LIBRARY – COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY**

It wasn't that Quinn minded all the studying and reading; in fact she liked to make sure she kept ahead of the curriculum. It's what helped her stay top of her class. But just because she didn't mind it didn't mean she wanted to be constantly stuck in the library. Rachel realized as much and had long since settled into a helpful routine: Every Monday, the Broadway starlet would swing by the library on her off-night and make sure Quinn got home at a relatively decent hour. Wednesdays she was on her own and typically stayed late in her personal little corner of the library, studying until her eyes hurt. Rachel would call or text her at intermission of her show to tell Quinn it was time to go home.

Tuesdays and Thursdays she tried to volunteer at a health clinic close by. She couldn't always make it, but she made a conscious effort to be there fairly regularly. Those were her "days off" from the library.

She kept odd hours and was rarely home. The library had actually become more of a home for her; which is where she found herself now, settled in at her regular small, circular table in the back where it was most quiet. She was crouched over a tome-like journal on cardiovascular dystrophy when she felt someone approach her private corner.

"I'm surprised they haven't named a wing of the library after you." Quinn looked up from her pile of books and paperwork. Allison motioned to the empty chair next to her. "May I?"

"Yeah, sure." Quinn pulled her books towards her to make room. Despite any awkward flirtations, Allison was one of her few close friends and, right now, a welcome distraction to the endless march of medical text.

"Oh no, you don't have to do that. I'm not staying," Allison said, waving her hand casually. "I actually have something for you."

Quinn arched an eyebrow, intrigued. She put down her pen and turned to face the girl. "Oh really?"

Allison reached in her shoulder bag and pulled out a small, red envelope from the front zipper pocket. Quinn glanced down at it as Allison shoved it awkwardly in her direction. "I would've given it to you this afternoon, but you rushed out of the building so damn fast."

Quinn took the envelope and opened it, her curiosity piqued. She pulled out a white invitation with pink and red hearts scattered across the front. It looked like something a child would make in elementary school. She lifted her eyes to Allison's. "Is this an invitation to a Valentine's Day party?"

Allison held up her hands innocently. "The invites were not my idea. My roommate insisted. 'If we plan on having a proper party, we need to invite people properly'," she quoted.

Quinn laughed. "She sounds like Rachel."

"I thought maybe if you didn't have any plans you'd stop by for a little bit," she shrugged casually. "Some of the others are coming."

"Um…" Quinn shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't that she didn't like parties; in fact, in high school and undergrad she quite enjoyed them. And she sure as hell didn't have any plans for Valentine's Day. But she had considered taking the practice exam for the boards in the spring. And in order to do well, she _really_ needed to buckle down and study.

Allison chuckled at her expression and reached out to place her hand on Quinn's forearm. "You don't have to panic every time I ask you to hang out. But I want you to know, you can't spend your entire med-school career studying. You have to have a little bit of fun from time to time." Quinn's blush only seemed to amuse the other girl. "Look, you don't have to give me an answer right now. But I _promise_ it'll be a good time."

Quinn glanced down at Allison's hand lingering on her arm. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"That's all I ask." Allison waited until Quinn looked at her before sliding her hand off of her arm. "I'll see you tomorrow. Don't fall asleep here, okay? They kind of frown upon that sort of thing."

Quinn chuckled as Allison grabbed her bag and stood. She watched her walk away and was instantly surprised to notice Rachel heading towards her. She glanced down at her watch and frowned. Rachel was early.

"Hey Rachel," Allison said, passing the girl with a wave.

"Oh, hello," Rachel smiled, turning her head curiously to watch the girl walk past. She faced Quinn and stopped in front of the table. "Was that Allison?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, grabbing her pen and continuing her reading.

"I haven't seen her in months! She looks great! You didn't tell me she had gotten so cute," Rachel said, impressed. She glanced down at the table, her eyes spotting the envelope. "What is that?" She reached for the invite and pulled it out of the envelope without waiting for permission.

Quinn shrugged and underlined a passage of text in her book. "An invitation for a Valentine's Day party."

Rachel's face lit up. "Ooh, a party! Are you going?"

"Probably not," Quinn mumbled.

"What? Why not?" Rachel seemed positively offended.

"I have too much work. Plus you know how I feel about Valentine's Day." Quinn closed her book and stared up at Rachel . "What are you doing here? It's only a quarter to six. Don't you have rehearsal until seven?"

Rachel shrugged. "We finished early. I thought I'd surprise you and see you if you wanted to go out and grab some dinner."

Quinn took in Rachel's pleading expression and sighed. "Sure, why not. I guess I'll finish my reading before I go to bed."

Rachel beamed in excitement and waited as Quinn gathered her books and notebooks and stuffed them in her shoulder bag. "I still think you should go to the party. It'll do you some good to get out of the apartment and socialize."

"So you keep saying." Quinn slung her bag over her shoulder as she stood. "We'll see."

* * *

**FEBRUARY 7, 2013 – BURBANK, CALIFORNIA**

"One week until Valentine's Day!" Sam sang out as he plopped down on the couch next to Santana. She grunted in response. "What? You don't like Valentine's Day?"

"When I have ever liked that crappy holiday, Sam?" she muttered, her eyes glued to the screen of her phone.

He nodded. "Oh, yeah. True." He glanced at Santana and arched an eyebrow. Her expression was intense; her brows furrowed in concentration as she scrolled through the website she was examining. "What are you doing? Who are you talking to?" he asked curiously. When Santana didn't answer he leaned over and peered at the small screen. "NYU Medical School? Are you planning on quitting the band to become a doctor?" he teased.

"No," Santana said absently.

"Oh-kay…" Sam turned his head to look at the brunette. "Then why are you on their website?"

Santana sighed and stood from the couch, dropping her phone on the vanity. "No reason."

"What the hell is this?" Puck called out suddenly. He was standing over by Sam's vanity area, a red and black headband dangling loosely off of his pointer finger. "I thought you were over this shit! You said you were gonna retire these things after tour numero uno!"

Sam stood and went over to grab the headband off of Puck's finger. "I can't retire them." He slipped the headband on his head, pushing his shaggy blonde hair out of his face. "Besides, it keeps the sweat out of my eyes."

"What sweat?" Puck asked incredulously. "We're playing _one_ song!"

"It's my thing!" Sam argued.

"I like the headbands," Mike offered from the far end of the couch.

"Yeah, if he stops wearing them, what would the girls send him?" Santana teased as she dropped lazily into her makeup chair.

Puck spun around to face Santana. "Uh, their panties?"

Santana grimaced. "You're disgusting."

"Oh, please," Puck scoffed. "Like you've never been given some hot girl's underpants."

Santana narrowed her eyes. "I swear to God you better not be hording them in your pillow case or something."

"Screw you, Lopez."

"Not my type, Puckerman," Santana countered with a smirk.

"Is everybody almost ready?" Will asked, stepping into the dressing room.

Sam jumped up and down excitedly. "Yeah, everyone get pumped!"

Santana chuckled. "Not the first time we've done Leno, Samuel."

"No," he drawled slowly. "But it's the first time we've done Leno for this album. It's launch time! Get psyched!"

"The album doesn't drop until March," Mike reminded him.

Sam frowned. "Don't ruin this for me." Their five minute warning for sound check came from the speaker in their dressing room. Santana looked over at Mike meditating and Puck drumming on the vanity counter. She glanced at Sam, who really was beaming from ear to ear. "Show time baby!" he called out happily.

Santana's eyes dropped to her phone. She wanted to continue her search of the NYU medical directory. So far she had come up with nothing. It was the first school she had searched, but she had hoped she would find her there. Briefly she wondered if Quinn was the late-night talk show type. Would she catch the show or would she be too busy studying? _This is what I'm worried about before going on TV in front of millions of people_, she thought with some detached amusement.

"Two minutes," the intern said, poking his head through the door.

Sam rushed towards the door, grabbing a bottle of water on the way. Puck checked his Mohawk in the mirror and Mike took two more deep breaths. Santana inhaled deeply and stood. It was time to focus on her performance. She pushed Quinn out of her head.

She snagged her bottle of water and followed her band out of the room. The intern instructed them repeatedly about being quiet and not stepping out on stage until they were finished recording. He droned on and on with his directions.

Santana nodded absently. She really hoped Quinn would watch.

* * *

**FEBRUARY 14, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY – ALLISON'S APARTMENT**

_Okay, so Rachel and Allison may have been right. Maybe getting out _was _as good idea_, she thought.

The party had started off a little slow. No one really knew each other that well. But after several drinks, Quinn found that she was actually enjoying herself. That is, until the few dozen or so other party-goers showed up late. New York City apartments were all closet-sized to begin with. Quinn wasn't exactly claustrophobic, but she wasn't exactly a shoulder-to-shoulder girl either.

Thankfully, Allison seemed to notice her discomfort and came to her rescue. "Did you know this many people were going to be here?" Quinn asked with wide eyes as Allison pulled her safely into her bedroom.

"No! I only invited like five people! I didn't know my roommate had that many friends!" Allison flicked on the light and leaned against the door after closing it. "Whew," she said with an exaggerated sigh.

"The break from being elbowed is quite welcomed," Quinn chuckled. She wobbled slightly as she walked further into the small bedroom. She was very tipsy. "Wow. Your room is…" She trailed off as she carefully walked the perimeter of the room, taking everything in. Or _lack_ of everything.

"My room is what?" Allison asked, already going on the defensive despite the amused smile on her face.

"Bare." Quinn glanced over her shoulder as she looked at blank, white walls. "Really bare."

Allison laughed. "Well excuse me for not being in college anymore. I didn't think I needed my walls covered with bands and movie stars."

"You don't. But you could have _something_." Quinn continued to glance around the room, her eyes falling on the most organized and clean room she had ever seen. It unsettled her.

"Well, what does _your_ room have on its walls?" Allison asked, pushing herself off of the door and taking a step closer to Quinn.

"My diploma. Pictures of my friends and family. You know," she shrugged and took a long sip of punch from her plastic cup, "normal stuff." She looked down at the nightstand and at the badge they both were required to use to get in and out of restricted sections of the hospital. She suddenly became fixated on the badge. If she squinted at it just right, it looked a lot like a hotel keycard...

_Santana fumbled to insert her room keycard in the slot as she kissed Quinn frantically against the door. She unsuccessfully tried again and again to make the card work. After several failed attempts, she knew the lock would need more of her attention. With a frustrated groan, she wrenched her mouth away to look down at the door handle._

_She jammed the card in roughly. The light angrily blinked red and the door remained locked. "God damnit!" she cursed in frustration._

_Quinn laughed. She found Santana's annoyance particularly charming. "Here," she said and gently placed her hand over Santana's. She slowly guided Santana's hand and the keycard into the lock. Her eyes lifted seductively to Santana's. Without breaking eye contact, Quinn pushed down on the handle. The door opened easily._

_Santana watched as Quinn took the card of out the lock and slipped in back inside of her own blazer pocket. With a smile, Quinn reached behind Santana's neck and pulled her in close, resuming where they left off. She shoved the door open with her free hand and pulled Santana inside with her. _

_Santana shrugged off her blazer and let it fall haphazardly to the floor. Quinn's hands instantly reached for the bottom of Santana's shirt, impatiently tugging at the hem._

_With eagerness brought on only by great anticipation, Santana broke the kiss and did the work for Quinn. She grabbed her shirt and tore it off of herself, and rather unceremoniously, tossed it behind her._

_Quinn's eyes met Santana's and she smiled._

"You'll have to show me what you mean by 'normal stuff' sometime," said Allison from somewhere off in the distance.

The voice snapped her out of the memory. Quinn squinted slightly at the girl whose face was suddenly much closer than it had been before. The eyes looking back at her were the wrong color brown. They were much too light.

A gentle hand cradled the side of her neck. Quinn closed her eyes. She felt off balance. The world seemed to spin. And then, suddenly, Allison's lips were on hers and she was being kissed, gently. Quinn's mouth parted.

But the lips that pressed back weren't right. They felt all wrong.

Quinn pulled her head away and took a step back. She brought her fingertips to her mouth. Her lips tingled. There was a twisting in the pit her stomach that made her wince. She felt pain and nausea at the same time. Something wasn't right. The person in front of her was not who she had been thinking about. Everything was all wrong. "Allison…" She trailed off, not knowing what to say. How to explain.

"Quinn," Allison said, taking a step forward, "I'm -" When Quinn leaned away, Allison's face fell. "I'm so sorry," she said in a single, hushed breath. "I just… I've wanted to do that for a _really_ long time and I thought we were having a moment."Allison's cheeks practically glowed red with embarrassment.

Even though they had escaped the claustrophobic party outside, Quinn felt as if the room was closing in around her. She needed space. She needed to get some air. She needed to get out of this room and away from Allison. "I need to go," she said frantically. Without another word, she made a beeline for the door.

But Allison reached out and caught her hand before she walked out. "Quinn, wait!" Allison said, spinning Quinn around to face her again. "You don't have to bail. I promise I won't kiss you again. Just… stay and hang out. Please?" Quinn hesitated. "We can talk. Maybe listen to music?" Allison released Quinn's hand and rushed towards her nightstand, picking up her iPod. "You can pick. I have pretty much everything." She turned on the device and began listing the names that appeared on her screen. "Dashboard Confessional, Imagine Dragons, Paramore, The Postal Service, Crossing Arizona, Bruno Mars..."

Quinn's head snapped up at the name. Did she just say…? Quinn's stomach turned. She bolted towards the bedroom door and threw it open. She thought for sure was going to be sick.

* * *

**FEBRUARY 16, 2013 – REDONDO BEACH, CALIFORNIA**

Santana stepped out of the car, the wind buffeting against her and threatening to push her long sun dress up above her legs. She straightened her dress and her lightweight jacket and reached for her wallet from inside of her purse, brushing past her cigarettes as she did. She peeked inside the pack and sighed. Her supply was dangerously low.

After selecting Unleaded and starting the pump, she closed her car door and made her way to the Mini Mart attached to the gas station. Once inside, she walked towards the refrigerated section and grabbed a large bottle of water and a strawberry banana Naked.

The woman at the counter barely acknowledged her as she approached and placed the items on the counter. "Can I also get a pack of…," she started but trailed off as her eyes fell on the gum strategically placed in front of her.

"_You really shouldn't be smoking." _

_Santana turned around. Quinn stood just outside of the door in a long, red pea coat smiling. "It's not good for you," she continued as she walked towards the brunette. "I'm a doctor, you know."_

_Santana smiled. "Not a doctor yet," she pointed out._

_Quinn laughed and nodded. "Touché."_

Hesitating only slightly, she reached for a handful of spearmint flavored packs and dropped them on the counter. "Why the hell not," she exhaled to herself. The woman at the register gave her a sympathetic smile as she scanned the items, tossing them in a small plastic bag.

Santana paid and reached in the bag, immediately tearing into one of the gum packs. She popped a piece into her mouth and sighed. "Shit," she mumbled. It didn't help her craving in the slightest. But at least it was a start.

* * *

**FEBRUARY 20, 2013 – NEW YORK - PRESBYTERIAN HOSPITAL**

Quinn tied her shoes quickly in order to make a hasty exit. She should've left forty minutes ago. The surgical observation she had been sitting in on had run over, making her late. Showering at the hospital hadn't helped either.

"You've been avoiding me."

Quinn somehow managed to resist the urge to jump in surprise. She quickly glanced over her shoulder and turned back to her shared locker for her bag. "What? No I haven't," she lied. Quinn's eyes darted to the resident a few lockers down. She really didn't want to have this conversation. Especially not when other people were within earshot. Hospital gossip was worse than high school.

Allison crossed her arms and leaned against the adjacent row of lockers. She didn't seem to share Quinn's concern for privacy. "Yes, you have. You volunteered to give a patient an enema."

The resident snorted. Quinn glanced at her and then back at Allison. "It's good to prepared for everything," she explained to both of them. The resident looked between Allison and Quinn and rolled her eyes, grabbing her scrub cap and leaving the two alone, mumbling about relationships in the workplace. Quinn blushed and turned towards Allison who clearly was still awaiting further explanation. Quinn threw her hands up in defeat. "Okay, I'm avoiding you."

Allison nodded. "Was it really that bad?" She looked hurt.

"No it wasn't _bad_…" Quinn exhaled and flopped down on the bench, her shoulders slumped. This was exactly why she was avoiding Allison. She had no idea how to explain her actions. The kiss hadn't been terrible, it just hadn't been…

Quinn shook her head. "I just… I was drunk and I wasn't thinking clearly."

Allison uncrossed her arms and tossed them in the air in defeat. "We didn't do anything wrong."

"No, I know that." Quinn rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted. As much as she tried to not think about Santana and that night, it still consumed her. It scared her to think that everyone she met from now on would have to automatically compete against someone who now only existed in her memory. "I'm just not ready," she murmured.

Allison sat down next to Quinn on the locker room bench. She looked down at her hands in her lap. "You're clearly not over someone. I get it."

Quinn shook her head. "It's not that," she said hastily. Allison looked up doubtfully. Quinn knew that wasn't true the moment it left her mouth. She rubbed the back of her neck, frustrated. "Well, maybe it is. I don't know. It's complicated."

And it was. What was she supposed to say? _I had this near perfect night with someone who turned out to be famous. I'm never going to see her again but I'm almost positive I fell in love with her that night._

Allison sighed and smiled. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it, or if you find yourself ready..." Her gaze lingered on Quinn for a long moment. Quinn couldn't meet her eyes. "You know where to find me," Allison finished and stood up. "I promise not to try and kiss you again," she said lightheartedly.

Quinn looked up and did her best to smile despite knowing how unconvincing it must've looked. She waited until Allison walked out of the locker room before burying her face in her hands with a frustrated groan.

* * *

**FEBRUARY 26, 2013 – PASADENA, CALIFORNIA**

Santana reached for her purse and dropped it on the table with a victorious smile. Marley had paid last time. It was Santana's turn; not even Marley's puppy eyes could sway her. She had won this round with Marley. She ignored the slight pout and reached for her wallet. "How is the move coming?"

"Slow," Marley said with a sigh, accepting defeat. "The contract is signed. We're trying to get everything scheduled to move out there sooner rather than later but with my traveling and Jake always at work, it's amazingly slow going."

"You know, I've been toying with the idea of getting a place in New York," Santana admitted, slipping her credit card inside the cash pocket left by the waiter.

"Really?" Marley seemed genuinely shocked at the idea. "You want to move away from LA? I thought you loved it here!"

Santana shrugged. She had been thinking about it for months and had even gone as far as searching for apartments in whatever spare moments she could find. "I _do _love LA. I definitely want to keep my apartment here. But I miss the East Coast. We're out there enough as it is. I figure why not have a place out there too?"

"You really are a rock star," Marley laughed. The waiter glanced down at Santana and then at Marley with a smirk. Santana handed him the check presenter and smiled politely. "What's next? A villa in Italy?" Marley teased.

Santana reached for her wine glass and brought it to her lips. "Perhaps."

Marley practically bounced out of her chair in excitement. "Well, I think it's a great idea. You should totally move to New York. We can be neighbors!"

Santana sighed and placed her empty glass back on the table. "It's not definite yet. I've just been thinking about it. I have to get through this tour first. And then talk to the guys."

"Ah, yes." Marley folded her hands under her chin and gave the other girl her undivided attention. "Tell me about this world tour. Where's your first stop?"

"Brasília," Santana grinned. "We'll be in Brazil for a little over a week. I'm pretty excited. The fans are awesome down there."

"So South America and then…?"

"Asia. Then Europe and then down under," she recalled. She had been looking at the schedule as often as she could, trying to make sense of it all before it became a total blur. "We'll be back in the States by the end of July and touring here through November. Then I'm hibernating through winter."

Marley's eyes went wide. "That's kind of huge."

Santana laughed and reached for the check presenter as the waiter reappeared. "They don't call it a World Tour for nothing!"

"You ladies have a wonderful evening," he beamed. He left Santana to sign her name and figure out his tip. She eyed him curiously.

"Does that guy seem off to you?" Santana wondered.

Marley shrugged. "I hadn't noticed." She reached for her jacket on the back of her chair. "I'm incredibly jealous and a little intimidated for you." She waited as Santana finished up with the check. "Are you worried about your voice?"

Santana nodded. "Always. I have an appointment with my vocal doctor next week and I have a crazy diet I have to stick to. A lot of voice rest coming up. Which means picking and choosing my battles with Puckerman." It was true. The last tour had been hell on her vocals. She spent most of that tour on vocal rest and had still managed to lose it often. It was almost three quarters of the way through the tour before she finally found a vocal doctor she really liked. The results had been pretty impressive. She developed a new confidence in her vocal abilities and rarely lost her on-stage voice again after that.

But this tour was longer and more strenuous than their first, which meant proper health and vocal care from even before the tour began. She was already on her strict diet, which included little dairy, plenty of voice rest, a lot of sleep, and limited alcohol consumption. She glanced at her empty wine glass with a sigh. She had always struggled mightily with the last part.

"Smoking doesn't help either, you know," Marley scolded. Santana reached for her purse and rummaged until she found what she was looking for. She tossed the pack of Nicorette on the table casually. Marley glanced down at the gum and back up at Santana. "Wait, did you give up smoking?"

Santana shrugged. "Trying to. For the third time."

"Oh my God, Santana!" Marley flung herself at the other girl and wrapped her arms around her neck tightly. "That's awesome! I'm proud of you!"

Santana patted her back, feeling very awkward at the loud outburst and the people that were now looking in their direction. "Well, I might be destined to fail," she confessed, pulling away. "I'm hoping the third time's the charm."

"You won't fail," Marley assured her.

Santana sighed and grabbed her purse. "You ready?" Marley nodded and reached for her own bag. She slipped on her jacket and followed Santana out of the restaurant.

Marley took Santana's hand in her own as they reached her car. "Thank you for dinner. Promise me we'll do it again before you leave."

"I promise."

Marley leaned in and kissed Santana on the cheek. "Drive safe. Call me soon, okay?"

Santana nodded and kissed Marley's cheek in return. "I will."

Bright flashes went off like lightning. Santana squinted and looked over at the handful of paparazzi crossing the street in their direction. "Hey ladies! Over here!"

Santana groaned and Marley ducked her head, fishing for her keys inside of her purse, still not accustomed to being followed by the paparazzi. "Well, that's nice. Wonder how long they've been camped out in the bushes," Santana muttered.

"How did they even know we were here?" Marley asked clearly flustered. Santana shot Marley a sympathetic look. She wasn't used to the paparazzi. In fact, neither was Santana. It was still relatively new to her as well. It wasn't until their first world tour had ended that she realized how often she was recognized. The media relatively left her alone, she wasn't on Beyonce's level of fame, but she got enough attention to ruin a private night out. It never ceased to amaze her that people actually cared about her personal life.

Marley, however, was still up and coming. Unfortunately, donning the cover of magazines and staring in fashion shoots brought out the creeps with cameras. It _was_ curious however exactly how they knew the girls were there. "Did somebody call them?" Marley wondered aloud.

"Yeah. I think somebody did," Santana confirmed thinking back to their waiter. "I'll call you later, okay? Get home safe."

Marley nodded and unlocked her car, quickly getting inside while still trying to cover her face.

"Santana! How was your date? Will there be a second?" one of the photographers called out.

Santana glanced back at the upscale restaurant they had emerged from and then down at her short dress and heels. _Crap_, she thought. It _did_ kind of look like a date. She rolled her eyes and reached for her keys as she made her way down the street to her own car. She ignored the cat-calls from the paparazzi and grabbed her phone to call the band's publicist for damage control.

"So much for a quiet evening out," she muttered.

* * *

**A/N: As always, thanks for the feedback - I apologize for any and all mistakes.** **I hope to have Ch. 8 posted by the end of Quinntana week. Fingers crossed!**


	8. Chapter 8

**MARCH 3, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

_Quinn pulled Santana's face back towards her and kissed her slowly, bringing their frantic actions down to a slow, passionate burn. Santana ran her hands caressingly up and down Quinn's back. Quinn's hands sought out the brunette's waist and dug her fingers into the exposed skin just above her denim jeans. They took their time kissing each other much like they had at the bar. Except now the fear of being noticed was gone. Now it was just the two of them, alone, in the darkened hotel room._

_Quinn lowered her hands to the top of Santana's jeans and hooked her fingers through her belt loops, pulling the girl closer into her. A moment later, Santana felt Quinn tug on the top of her jeans. She looked down to watch with quickening anticipation as small fingers deftly undid the button and tug down at her zipper and absent mindedly licked her full bottom lip. _

_Quinn leaned in and gently kissed her as she slowly dragged Santana's jeans down as far she could reach without breaking their kiss; over pointed hipbones and toned thighs. Santana quickly obliged and broke the kiss to reach down and pull herself completely free. As she stepped out of the denim, she looked up to see Quinn staring at her pointedly. When Quinn was sure she had Santana's full attention, she reached up and hooked her fingers under the shoulder straps of her dress and pushed the straps off of her shoulders. The dress slid to the floor with ease._

_Santana ran her eyes slowly up Quinn's body, taking in her matching black underwear and strapless bra. Quinn blushed slightly under Santana's focused gaze. When Santana's eyes trailed upwards and finally landed on hers again, Quinn reached back and unclasped her bra. She was enamored with the way Santana seemed to be hanging on her every move. It excited her. With a near-breathless smile, she pulled her black bra away and tossed it over her shoulder. She chuckled lightly as Santana unceremoniously looked down at her bare chest, taking it in._

_Quinn reached out and pulled Santana into her, kissing her hard. This time it wasn't slow and gentle, it was firm and passionate and conveyed her deep desperation to move forward. Santana kissed her back with a fierceness that indicated that she agreed._

_Wordlessly breaking their embrace, Santana let her hands rest on Quinn's waist as she walked backwards to the bed, taking Quinn with her. She slowly spun and led Quinn to the mattress first, lowering her down onto her back. She spent a few moments more at Quinn's mouth before moving to cover the rest of her face with long, loving kisses. _

_Quinn groaned at how good it felt when Santana's attentions found that spot just behind her ear. Santana sucked lightly, her breath whispering against her before trailing her kisses down the side of her neck._

_Santana dropped down onto the bed next to Quinn, propping herself up on her right elbow. She ran her left hand up along the blonde's side, stopping purposefully to cup one of Quinn's bare breasts. She leaned back in to Quinn's neck and continued trailing kisses downward over her collarbone and onto the neglected breast, taking its nipple into her mouth._

_Quinn's back arched off of the bed and her hands slid down Santana's back, pressing her in more tightly against her._

_Santana took her time, alternating breasts, sucking, nibbling and kissing every inch of them until Quinn's persistent squirming urged her lower. Santana's lips continued down once more, covering as much bare skin with both her mouth and fingertips._

_When she began tracing the line of her hip bone with her tongue, Quinn whimpered softly. Quinn's vocal appreciation of her every touch drove Santana crazy. She needed to hear her as much as feel her._

_Santana hooked her fingers under the waistband of the last of Quinn's clothing and pulled. She turned her head up to look into her eyes, keeping her chin inches above her body as she tugged the black underwear down and away. Quinn sat up on her elbows and watched her intently, her lips parted and her chest rising and falling heavily. With a quick caress across the ball of Quinn's foot, Santana pulled the black fabric away completely from Quinn's body. She dangled the underwear from her pointed finger, cocked her head teasingly and smiled, eliciting a laugh from Quinn. Santana shot her a wink and tossed them over shoulder._

_Quinn's smile became a small "oh" as Santana lowered her head and pressed her lips against Quinn's ankle. She left slow, lingering kisses all the way up Quinn's leg, eventually returning to the blonde's hip bone; her right hand mirroring the movement upward._

_Quinn watched with shallow breaths as Santana began to move down again, leaving wet kisses across Quinn's abdomen, down to her thigh. Quinn could barely keep her head lifted and her eyes open as Santana's kisses turned inwards. She watched as Santana lifted her right leg up to rest it over her shoulder, allowing herself to move in even closer. She shuddered as she felt Santana's teeth graze along the soft flesh of her inner thigh._

_The sudden, slow upward stroke of Santana's tongue along Quinn's center was immediately more than she could handle. "Oh my God...," Quinn moaned as she fell back onto the bed, her eyes squeezing shut. Her hands blindly found their way down to Santana's dark hair and she felt herself instinctively pull Santana's touch closer. _

_Santana took long, slow, deliberate strokes, stopping occasionally to make patterns with her tongue. Quinn wasn't sure how long she could hold out. Her breathing picked up rapidly. She pressed Santana's head even closer against her and held her there. The small moan that vibrated deep within Santana's throat didn't help. _

_When Quinn started to thrust her hips upwards to meet Santana's tongue, the motion stopped completely. Quinn reflexively groaned, frustrated that Santana pulled away. She opened her eyes to shoot an accusatory stare and ask what had happened when she saw why Santana had stopped._

_Santana stood at the foot of the bed with a wild grin, waiting until she had Quinn's full attention. When she saw that she did, Santana made her watch as she stripped herself naked, removing the last of her own clothing. She laughed as she saw Quinn's face run a gamut of emotions. Seizing upon the opportunity, she moved forward onto the bed and crawled up to Quinn. She laid herself down on top of her, covering Quinn's skin with her own. The heat coming from the blonde's body making her dizzy._

_Quinn wrapped both arms around Santana's back, pulling her event tighter, feeling Santana's breasts press against her own; her hips against hers. Right then, Quinn needed to feel as much of Santana's body against her as she could. _

_Santana sighed as Quinn's lips met her own, kissing her hungrily. Her hand swept across Quinn's stomach and downwards. Quinn wrapped one of her legs up and over the backs of Santana's thighs, locking her in place._

_Santana's hand reached down between them. She began to stroke her thumb slowly against Quinn's inner thigh. Quinn was about to groan her disapproval at the agonizing tease when she felt Santana slip a slender finger inside of her. The breath went out of her lungs in a shuddering whimper. She barely had time to process her thoughts before she felt a second finger enter her and move in steady rhythm with the first. _

_Quinn arched her hips off of the bed and further into Santana's hand, encouraging her to move faster, pushing her deeper. Quinn moaned into each open-mouthed kiss, her arms reaching up under Santana's, her hands digging into her shoulder blades, occasionally reaching up to tangle her fingers in Santana's hair._

_Santana rubbed tight circles against Quinn's clit with her thumb and Quinn tore her mouth away, gasping for air. She knew she was close. So embarrassingly close. Her grip tightened as Santana increased the speed of her hand until she knew she was almost there. Her nails dug into Santana's back and she threw her head back._

_"Holy shit!" she called as she practically floated over the bed. Wave after wave seemed to continually course through her until finally, breathlessly, she collapsed back down onto the bed. "Santana..." she managed, trying to find her breath._

_But Santana was too focused on moving in and out until she was sure the last of Quinn's shudders had subsided. Even then, she kept both fingers insider of her as she looked down at her. Quinn's hair was sweaty and disheveled, her chest heaving, her eyes still closed. She looked absolutely perfect. It was the most beautiful thing Santana had ever seen._

_When Quinn finally regained control of her breath, Santana slowly removed her fingers, Quinn instantly whining at the loss of them inside of her. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at Santana who smiled down at her. She settled down next to Quinn and pulled the girl into her arms. Santana sighed as she kissed Quinn's temple, her lips lingering against her skin._

_Quinn turned to face her, wrapping her body around her, tangling their limbs. She kissed Santana until she was breathless once more._

"Earth calling Quinn!"

Quinn snapped out of her daze and pulled her eyes away from the television to look at Rachel, who was staring at her quizzically from across the couch. "What?" Quinn responded after a beat.

"Where did you go?" Rachel asked and pulled her blanket up further around her shoulders. "You zoned out for the majority of the episode."

Quinn blushed. "I'm sorry, I was just... thinking." She turned away from Rachel towards the TV, desperate to hide her reddening cheeks. _Once Upon A Time _looked like it was just about over and Quinn realized she had no idea what was going on in this episode. Had she really been daydreaming that long?

"Was it about Santana?" Rachel persisted. When Quinn didn't answer, Rachel narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Quinn shifted uncomfortably, feeling herself being studied. "It was, wasn't it?" Rachel screeched and reached for the television remote. She paused the episode and spun around completely to face her friend. "You were having sexy thoughts about Santana!" she whisper-shouted.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Sexy thoughts?"

Rachel gasped and pointed at her knowingly. "You totally were!"

If it were at all possible, Quinn felt her face flush even more. She turned towards the television and shook her head. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Rachel let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a shout of excitement and a knowing confirmation. "Yes I do! Your face is so red. You should see it."

"I'm going to bed," Quinn groaned. She definitely did not need Rachel teasing her about being so worked up. She pushed her blanket off of her legs and stood.

Rachel laughed at the scowl on Quinn's face. "Oh, come on, don't be a baby! We all have pornographic daydreams!"

"Goodnight, Rachel," Quinn mumbled without turning around.

"Pleasant Santana-filled dreams, Quinn!" Rachel called out as Quinn disappeared down the hall to her bedroom. She chuckled when she heard Quinn slam her door shut behind her.

* * *

**MARCH 12, 2013 – LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA – ALBUM LAUNCH PARTY**

"Want another beer?" Sam asked, pointing at Santana's near-empty bottle.

She tilted the bottle, examined the inch or so of beer she had left, and bit the inside of her cheek considering the question seriously. She had already had two and she didn't like to drink too much when she was around fans. Not to mention she was supposed to limit her intake to help protect her voice. She glanced up at Sam who arched an eyebrow. She nodded. "Yeah, I'll have one more."

Sam smirked as Santana tipped her drink up, drained it, and handed him her empty bottle. He made his way to the bar, stopping briefly to talk to a few fans who had been waiting to get their picture with him.

Santana glanced around the room. It was the first time she had been alone all night. Her cheeks hurt from all the smiling she had done the last two hours. Not that she was complaining; she loved it. Spending time with fans and watching them hear the album for the first time made her giddy.

Despite having been nearly two years since they had released their debut album, she was still absolutely blown away that people were willing to spend hours of their time waiting in line just to meet her; to ask her to sign a picture of herself for them to keep. To think, the music she and the guys had written and the lyrics they had pulled from their notebooks, led to all this? It was truly tough to process.

It was the next best thing to being on stage.

The room was filled with happy-looking people having a good time. She and the band had gotten a really good response for the new album earlier in the evening. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. They had spent so long working in the studio on getting their songs how they wanted them to sound. But in the confines of a sound-proof studio, everything was done in a vacuum. What she and the guys thought sounded incredible wasn't necessarily the case to anyone outside of the studio control room. Sure the suits had heard it and approved but they hardly counted. Once everything hit the streets, it was all about that "hold-your-breath" and wait moment when the first few hands got to hear the brand new material. And thankfully, mercifully, they had all learned tonight that others loved it just as much as they had. Santana had been humbled to learn that when you share something as personal as an album and see it connect with complete strangers, it could truly be a powerful thing.

Santana smiled. Their album had finally dropped. It was officially out. She just hoped the rest of their fans liked it as much as everyone at the launch seemed to.

A couple of girls walked by, one of them flashing a flirtatious smile. Santana did her best to reciprocate.

Her peripheral vision suddenly caught a flash of blonde. She whipped her head in that direction, her hopes flaring. She let out a long, disappointed breath when it was someone she didn't recognize. Again.

She knew it was ridiculous. Every blonde head of hair she caught a glimpse of had her doing double-takes, making certain it wasn't the blonde she hoped it would be. It wasn't logical; Quinn wouldn't be in Los Angeles. Not when Santana knew she was in med school somewhere in New York. But she still found herself staring at every blonde stranger who crossed her line of sight. She was becoming used to the disappointed feeling in the pit of her stomach.

A pair of slender arms wrapped around her from behind and a soft pair of lips pressed against her ear. "What's a sexy girl like you standing all alone in a place like this?"

Santana stiffened. She knew that voice, those arms and that scent. She turned in the embrace and smiled at the only other blonde to ever make a lasting impression on her. "Wow," she said, holding the girl's hands, her eyes trailing down her body. "You look amazing."

And she did: Long slender legs, a very short skirt, a low cut, long-sleeved blouse and long blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail. Her bright blue eyes shined even in the dimly lit room. Her smile brought a strange sort of comfort to Santana she hadn't realized she had been missing. "So do you," she said, grinning back at Santana.

"Brittany, when did you get here?" Santana asked as she pulled her in for a proper hug. "I thought you weren't coming home for another week."

"I wanted to surprise you before you left. I made Marley swear she wouldn't tell," she admitted. "I slipped in right as they started the preview." She stepped back and gave Santana a once-over. "You were with fans and the press so I didn't want to bother you," she explained. "The album sounds great, by the way."

"You've already heard it," Santana laughed. "You made me email it to you while you were off gallivanting in Russia."

Brittany shrugged. "Yeah, but that was still a demo. This is all finalized and stuff," she pointed out. "And I wasn't gallivanting. I was sightseeing." Santana rolled her eyes playfully. "It's really amazing, San. I'm proud of you."

Santana smiled and looked away. Despite being broken up, it still made her smile every time Brittany told her how proud she was of her. "Thanks Britt," she said, looking down at her shoes.

"So do you have my signed copy or what?" Brittany asked, holding out her hand.

"Brittany," Santana sighed, amused.

"What? You promised that you would always make sure I had a signed copy of all your albums." She turned her palms up and shrugged again. "Just because we're not dating anymore doesn't mean you get out of it. And I know you gave one to my sister. So…"

Santana smirked and nodded. "Okay, okay. I'll make sure to sign a copy for you before you leave."

Brittany smiled. "Good."

She jumped in surprise as Will approached her from behind and leaned in to whisper in her ear. Santana turned and looked towards the small group of fans he had brought over with him. She smiled at the group and nodded at Will to let him know she'd be right over. She reluctantly turned back to Brittany with an apologetic look. "I'd love to catch up, but," she motioned to the group of teenagers waiting patiently to have their picture taken and a chance to talk to with her.

"Maybe you could come back to my place," Brittany suggested. "You know; to talk. Just to catch up before you leave," she added quickly after seeing the uncertain look on Santana's face.

"I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon. I haven't even finished packing." Despite the crestfallen look on her face, Brittany nodded. Santana couldn't help the twinge of pain the expression made her feel. "You can come to my place though. And help? It'll be like old times."

Brittany's face lit up and she nodded happily. "That sounds great!"

"Okay, I gotta...," Santana trailed off and tossed her head back in the direction of the awaiting fans.

Brittany nodded in understanding, waving Santana away. "I'll come find you later. I'm going to buy a drink."

"The drinks are free," Santana laughed.

"Even better!" Brittany called back over her shoulder.

Santana shook her head and made her way to the group of fans. They all held up their cameras and their pens as she approached.

**NEW YORK CITY**

Sometimes school overwhelmed her. When that happened, she put her med books and notes down and tried her best to tune it all out. It wasn't easy, but certainly necessary for her sanity. Ironically, this often involved picking up other books in place of the required ones. She was a book nerd, plain and simple. She had made peace with that years ago. Quinn had spent many a weekend turning down clubs for nights lost in fiction.

She glanced at the clock. 8:52. Rachel was due back home from her date with Nick any minute, which meant the end of her quiet time. Quinn sighed and went back to her book.

Moments later, she heard the heavy clicking of the apartment deadbolt as it was turned. She looked up at her roommate as she shut the door behind her. "You're home late," she noted. "How was rehearsal?"

"It was great," Rachel beamed. Quinn silently thanked the heavens. When she came home after a bad rehearsal or a "dreadful" show, Rachel vented until she had no more breath. Quinn wasn't sure she would have had the patience for that tonight; she had hoped to go to bed at a decent hour.

But the smile on Rachel's face persisted. And that was odd. Quinn narrowed her eyes and closed the book in her lap. "What aren't you telling me?"

Rachel stopped shrugging out of her coat and put on her best "confused" face. "What do you mean?"

Quinn crossed her arms over her chest. "I know that look. You're up to something."

"I am not!" Rachel shrugged off her coat and draped it over the back of the couch. When she saw the incredulous look on Quinn's face, she sighed. "Okay, but promise me you won't get upset," she pleaded.

Quinn gave her a pointed look. "What did you do?"

Rachel dropped her purse on the couch and sat down beside it, facing the blonde. "Well, I had some errands to run after dinner with Nick. Oh, we went to that cute little Thai place around the corner, you know, across from the CVS?" Quinn nodded and gestured for Rachel to continue. "Anyway, Nick reminded me during our little outing that Crossing Arizona's new album came out today."

Quinn tensed.

Rachel reached in her purse and pulled out the CD. Quinn watched as she placed it gently on the coffee table between them.

"I thought you might like to have it," Rachel said softly. Quinn didn't take her eyes off of the black and white CD cover. Without another word, Rachel stood and quietly slipped into her bedroom, leaving Quinn alone staring at the still wrapped disc.

**LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA**

The room was a disaster. It always was right before or in the middle of touring. Santana would toss things on her bed that she wanted to pack, piling up clothes she had to bring and those she wanted to bring if there was room. Hauling a dozen suitcases around the world wasn't an option, so she tried to think it all through before packing. Most of the time she ended up buying new clothes on the road to in order to make up for whatever it was she forgot. Perks of being a relatively well-paid rock star.

"It doesn't seem like you're bringing very much," Brittany commented as she poked through Santana's half-packed suitcase.

"It never does," Santana mumbled and shoved another shirt into her luggage. "We have a few days off in April. I'll adjust if I need to."

Brittany nodded absently as she stared down at the array of clothing Santana had planned to bring to South America. Santana moved to pull a pair of jeans from the depths of her closet when she noticed Brittany reach out for a t-shirt from her open dresser. One particular t-shirt they both knew very well. "So Marley tells me you two have been seeing a lot of each other," Brittany said.

"We have," Santana nodded. She turned and rummaged through her clothes rack with a sigh. "It's a good thing I'm leaving for awhile. Otherwise baby Puckerman will start to believe all the rumors that your sister and I are actually dating." Brittany laugh echoed throughout her bedroom. Santana smiled. She missed that sound.

"Yeah, she told me that you two got jumped after dinner. What did your publicist say?" It was very clear that Brittany found the entire thing amusing. She trotted towards the bed and flopped down beside Santana's suitcase, the shirt still in her hands.

Santana rolled her eyes. "That there wasn't any point in making more than a statement. She said it would blow over while we were in South America. Not being in the public eye or some crap like that."

"I'm glad you two are still close," Brittany said honestly.

"Me too," Santana agreed. Marley had become a good friend. She was practically a little sister as far as Santana was concerned.

She watched as Brittany ran her fingers across the t-shirt. "This brings back a lot of memories," Brittany said softly.

"Yeah, it does." Santana stared at the beaten up Patriots t-shirt Brittany had given her when they first starting dating. Both had gotten a lot of use out of it, taking turns wearing it and taking turns removing it. Santana decided to change the subject. "How has it been touring and 'sightseeing' the world?"

Brittany's face lit up. "Really good. The show has been so successful. It's sold out everywhere! I've danced in places I only dreamed of. It's been amazing."

Santana smiled. She loved the look on Brittany's face when she talked about dancing. "I'm really proud of you, Britt."

"Thanks." Brittany placed the t-shirt aside and pulled her legs underneath her. She watched as Santana brought a handful of items to the bed and tossed them on top of the small pile already packed. "It sucks that I'm coming home as you're leaving. I feel like we don't talk anymore."

Santana sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing the clothes around inside of her large suitcase, making as much room as possible. "I know. But I'll be home at the end of June for a few weeks before the US Tour kicks off. Maybe we can try and see more of each other then?"

Brittany stared at her for a moment, a faraway look in her eyes. It made Santana's chest ache. "I miss you," she said softly, a sad smile on her lips.

"I miss you, too," Santana said, equally as quiet. And she did. She missed her. She missed their late night conversations; Brittany's positive outlook on life. She missed her best friend. Just because they were no longer intimate didn't mean she didn't miss the little things.

Santana had to hide her surprise as she caught Brittany trying to discretely wipe her eyes, trying not to let anymore tears fall down her cheeks. Despite missing her deeply, Santana had long since come to grips that it was over. Even though it still pained her to think about it, Santana was grateful they could finally be together, here, like this, without feeling like she was dying inside.

She reached out, placed her hand on Brittany's knee and gave it a small squeeze. When Brittany's eyes met her own, she smiled encouragingly. "So tell me about the tour," she said. "Where was your favorite place to visit?"

* * *

**MARCH 16, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY - CAFÉ**

Rachel tossed the magazine away in disgust. "They can't get my quotes right," she complained.

"Rachel," Quinn laughed, "you've gotten good write-ups in every single article that's come out about you. You're in _Broadway_ magazine and I'm pretty sure you'll be on the cover in the near future. Don't get so hung up on little misquotes."

Rachel squinted at her. "Quinn. Has anyone ever misquoted _you_ in any sort of publication?" Quinn made a face, immediately regretting trying to calm Rachel down on the subject. "I didn't think so," said Rachel, matter-of-factly. "Until that happens, you can't possibly know the anguish of-"

Quinn sighed and did her best not to roll her eyes as Rachel began to go into detail about all the things Quinn couldn't possibly understand. It was her own fault, she realized. She should've just agreed with Rachel and continued to eat her breakfast in silence. She raised her coffee cup to her lips and peered over the top, noticing a woman at the table across from them begin to pull her long hair back into some sort of messy bun atop her head. Quinn's eyes fell to the heart shaped tattoo on her neck...

_Quinn let her eyes roam freely over her body. Santana watched curiously as Quinn took her time, taking in as much of the other girl as she could. She lightly trailed her fingertips down the length of Santana's arm, eliciting a shiver. A slow smile spread across Quinn's lips as she reached out for Santana's hand and turned it around, gripping her forearm lightly. "I love your tattoos," she said finally as she ran her fingers across the small black wording along Santana's wrist._

_Santana arched an eyebrow. "Oh really?"_

_"Really," Quinn assured her. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at the curved words. She lowered her head and dropped a lingering kiss atop the black letters. "What does it mean?"_

_"It means love," Santana answered breathlessly, her eyes lidded as she watched her._

_Quinn ran her thumb over the letters, tracing them slowly with her fingertip. She kissed Santana's wrist again and ran her eyes lower, to her hips. She trailed a path with her hand, ghosting over Santana's side until she reached the curve of her hip._

_She flashed Santana a quick glance before pushing herself lower, dragging her body against the length of Santana's side and settled beside her. Quinn's face, now even with the next tattoo, leaned in, her breath hot against Santana's hip bone._

_Quinn leaned in and gently sucked on her hip as her fingers danced over the colorful design. "And this one?" she breathed against Santana's skin._

"_My grandma loved birds. She always said whenever you saw a hummingbird it was someone from heaven coming to check on you," Santana confessed._

_Quinn's eyes lifted to hers. She smiled and kissed the small bird before shifting to her other hip. Her tongue delicately traced the peace sign there, not bothering to ask the meaning behind it. She looked up at Santana, who was still watching her intently, trying to anxiously determine where Quinn would move to next. Quinn surprised her completely when she reached around to the small of Santana's back and twisted her hips, silently directing her to flip over onto her stomach. _

_Santana obliged her and allowed herself to be turned over."How do you know I have any on my back?" Santana teased._

_Quinn hummed and ran her hands down Santana's skin, stopping at the large cross on the small of her back. She traced the outline with her finger. "This one?"_

_Santana shuddered. "Because I'm a good Christian girl?" she offered._

_Quinn smirked and lowered her head, trailing her tongue up the length of the tattoo. Santana moaned all teasing from her voice gone. Quinn dragged her lips up Santana's back, her hands following. She pressed her mouth against Santana's shoulder and gently sucked right at the curve of her neck._

_Quinn pushed the hair away from Santana's neck and ran her tongue to the tattoo that had been hidden beneath. "How many do you have?" Quinn asked, pressing her lips against the back of Santana's neck._

"_How many can you find?" Santana teased._

_Quinn purred against her neck, sending a shock of goosebumps down her left side. She then turned her attention to Santana's ear. "All of them," she answered and took her earlobe into her mouth. _

_Santana groaned. She couldn't take anymore. She flipped onto her back and pushed up on her elbows, crushing her mouth against Quinn's._

The sound of shattering glass almost made her jump out of her chair. The coffee mug in her hand wobbled and she barely managed from spilling the liquid all over her lap.

"Well that was terrifying," Rachel said exasperatedly as she held her hand over her heart.

Quinn whipped her head around behind her at the waiter, who was now stooped over, picking up the pieces of the plate he'd dropped on his way back to the kitchen. Her heart felt like it might explode within her chest.

"Now what was I saying?" Rachel looked positively annoyed at the interruption. "Oh, yes. I never said I _deserved_ the role, I said I felt I was _deserving _of it. There's a huge difference in the wording."

Quinn inwardly groaned and sank into her chair. So much for a nice, quiet brunch.

* * *

**MARCH 19, 2013 – RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL**

"You are _so_ goin' down, Chang!" Puck leaned to his right and laughed as he maneuvered his on-screen character into cover. A flick of the analog stick and the right trigger had him roll out neatly behind Mike's avatar and pop off a point-blank shot.

"The back? Dude. Low blow," Mike winced as he watched his character fall to his death. "I swear you're cheating," he mumbled as he waited to re-spawn.

Sam stepped into the small back recreation room of their bus and eyed Puck and Mike playing their Xbox's. He glanced at one of the unused controllers and turned towards Santana, who was sitting cross legged on the opposite side of the couch. He opted for the latter of the two choices. "What are you up to?" he asked, dropping heavily onto the cushions next to her.

She glanced up only briefly from her laptop."Nothing."

Sam leaned back against the cushions and peered over at her screen. "You're looking at the Cornell Medical School directory." Santana ignored him and minimized the window. "Why are you looking up medical schools in New York, Santana?"

She sighed and snapped the laptop closed completely. "It's nothing."

"First NYU, now Cornell?" He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Is this about that girl from New Years?" Puck glanced up from his controller, suddenly very interested in their conversation. When Santana didn't respond, a slow, resolute smile spread across Sam's face. "It is, isn't it?"

"What girl?" Mike asked, without taking his eyes from the television screen.

"Shh!" Puck gestured for Mike to shut up while he paused the game.

"You're trying to what; track her down?" Sam turned towards Santana, who tossed her laptop onto the armrest next to her. "Why are you so hung up on her?"

"I'm not 'hung up'," Santana protested.

Sam gave her a pointed look. "You're stalking medical schools, Santana. I'd say that's pretty hung up."

Santana rolled her eyes. "What if I am, Sam? Why does it even matter to you?"

Sam threw his hands up in the air as if Santana had just said the stupidest thing in the world. "You know nothing about her! You spent _one_ night together and now you're obsessed. You don't even know her!"

Mike leaned in towards Puck, his brows knitted together in confusion. "Know who?"

"_Shut_ _up_, Mike," Puck hissed through his teeth.

"She could be this weird psycho girl who's trying sell to something of yours online right now!" He nodded towards her laptop. "In fact, I'd bet on it. Let's look. Pull up eBay."

Santana stood and stared down at him dangerously. Puck and Mike exchanged worried glances. "She's _not_ a psycho." The low tone in her voice was a warning.

But Sam stood his ground. He shook his head at her. "She _left_ you, Santana. Open your eyes! You're chasing after someone who doesn't even exist! That's why you wrote that song, right? Because she's 'just a dream'?"

Santana's nose crinkled in disgust as she took a step backwards, putting more space between them. "Why are you being such an asshole?"

Sam ran his hands through his hair. "I'm your friend. I'm trying to make sure you don't get hurt again."

Santana clenched her jaw shut tightly. She stared back him as shocked as if he'd just stood up and slapped her. Unsure and afraid of what she might say next, she instead turned to leave. She couldn't be in the same room with him right now.

Puck and Mike sat frozen, their eyes wide. A long moment stretched between them, their eyes locked. The only sound was the soft music coming from the menu of their paused game, looping over and over again.

Santana was halfway to the door when she stopped and turned to look back over her shoulder at Sam. "You're right," she said softly. "She's just a dream, and I'm just the idiot chasing it." Sam's expression softened and he opened his mouth to respond, but Santana strode out the door and down the small hall towards her bunk before he could.

Feeling immensely guilty, Sam stared at the empty door frame and sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Puck let out a low whistle and glanced at his controller, restarting the game. "Wow, dude. What crawled up your butt and died this morning?"

Mike slapped his hand down on the couch cushion, frustrated. "Will someone _please_ tell me what the _hell_ is going on?"

* * *

**MARCH 20, 2013 – NEW YORK PRESBYTERIAN HOSPITAL**

Quinn checked her texts while balancing her tray on one arm: Two from Rachel, one from her cousin, and one from her sister. She tapped out replies to each with her free hand as she somewhat blindly picked her way past other tables of doctors, visitors and nurses. She glanced up and saw she was nearing her own table.

Allison was there already, sitting close together with another of their classmates, Mercedes. They were both hunched over looking at something. Quinn arched and eyebrow as she slid her tray on the table and pulled out a chair next to Allison. "What are you guys looking at?"

Allison smiled at her as she sat down. "Just some trashy tabloid Mercedes brought in."

Mercedes head snapped up. "It's not trashy! _Star_ is not a trashy tabloid, thank you very much."

Quinn and Allison shared a knowing smile. "Excuse me, Miss Celebrity Gossip," Allison said, rolling her eyes.

Mercedes continued to flip through the pages. "Whatever. I like to know about what's happening out there in the real world while I'm stuck here in this hospital with you freaks all day," she mumbled.

Allison scoffed. "Yes, because celebrities living in Hollywood constitutes as the real world." But she and Quinn both couldn't help but lean in a little closer to the colored photographs of the celebrity-filled pages.

Before Mercedes could turn over the next page, Quinn saw something in one of the pictures that caused an immediate, all-too-familiar flutter in the pit of her stomach. Her hand shot out and stopped Mercedes from turning the page. "Wait! Let me see that page." Mercedes looked at her in alarm and brought her hand back. Quinn snatched the magazine off the table and brought it close, hoping that she had once again just been seeing things. On closer inspection, she saw she hadn't. Her heart sank. "Oh my God."

"What?" Mercedes asked, trying to look at the pages and noting Quinn's sickened expression.

Allison leaned over curiously to see what Quinn was staring at. "Santana Lopez is dating Marley Rose?" She reached out and managed to tear the magazine away from Quinn so she too could inspect. "When was this taken?"

Mercedes shrugged and reached for her yogurt, stirring the contents with her spoon. "What's the big deal?"

"Well," Allison began with a devilish grin.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Oh, here we go."

"Santana used to be in this, like, epic romance with Brittany Pierce, you know, Beyonce's back up dancer? Anyway, _Marley_ is Brittany's younger sister." Allison whispered everything like a middle-school girl who had just stumbled onto the latest gossip. Mercedes sighed, clearly not interested. "Wait! It gets better!" Allison insisted, too intent on convincing Marley to notice the steadily sinking expression on Quinn's face. "Marley is in a relationship with Jake Puckerman, who just happens to be Noah Puckerman's younger brother. _Noah_ is the drummer for Crossing Arizona."

"Scandalous!" Mercedes mocked.

Allison laughed and pushed the magazine back towards Mercedes with a shrug. "Well it kind of is! And hey, you're the one that typically buys this crap for these kinds of stories."

"But that's just a tabloid. One picture doesn't mean they're dating, right?" Quinn asked hesitantly.

"It's _not_ a tabloid," Mercedes insisted.

"There are several pictures," Allison said, nodding towards the article. The headline read: _Santana and Marley: Hollywood's Hottest New Romance? _

Mercedes turned the page, ready to move on. "Well, I think it's just a rumor. I think they're just friends."

"Yes, because you're the Queen of Hollywood romances," Allison laughed. "But I don't know; There's always some truth to rumors." She reached for her drink and leaned back in her chair, turning to look at Quinn. "What do you think? Clearly you're pretty interested in all this."

Quinn lifted her gaze. With the best smile she could muster, Quinn nodded in agreement. "Yeah, there's gotta be some truth there."

Allison pushed at Mercedes' shoulder triumphantly. "See? Even Quinn agrees with me."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Y'all, I could care less about Crossing Arizona and their drummer and sisters and brothers and who dated who and all that other crap."

But Quinn cared. A lot. Despite not having the tabloid in front of her anymore, she could still clearly see the images in front of her; Santana leaning in and kissing someone else on the cheek. Santana and Marley holding hands over what looked like a romantic dinner. Santana Marley sitting closely next to each other at some cafe, staring at one another and beaming.

"Hey, I didn't know you were a big Crossing Arizona fan," Allison said elbowing Quinn in the side gently.

"Yeah," Quinn said as convincingly as she could as she reached for her apple. But she didn't take a bite. She was no longer hungry.

* * *

**MARCH 22, 2013 – PORTO ALEGRE, BRAZIL**

She couldn't help it. Some nights she didn't look at it at all. She'd made it a test of will to see how long she could go without needing to check her phone. It was easy when there was a show because of the sheer amount of work it took to put one on: sleep in late, sound check, meet and greets, go out on stage, come back, and hang out with the guys before passing out. But on days like today, days where they were traveling or resting in their hotel rooms, those were the days she found herself with no tangible distractions to stop her from curling up somewhere quiet and pulling out her phone.

Santana pushed her fingers outward on the screen, enlarging the picture on it. She looked so happy. The corner of Santana's lip raised as she stared at screen. Her eyes traced down the picture to the girl's hands, resting lightly on her chest. The girl's head was ducked and her cheeks were red with embarrassment. She looked beautiful. Santana's smile began to fade.

Her head snapped up when she heard the knock at her door. She pressed the top of her phone and the screen went dark. Standing, she tossed the phone back onto the bed and made her way over to the door. She looked through the peep hole and frowned. After a moment of weighing her options, she unlocked and pulled open the door. She leaned against the frame and stared at him, waiting.

Sam offered an apologetic and surrendering smile, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey," he said rocking back on his heels.

Santana regarded him closely. The two had barely looked at each other the past three days, let alone spoken. "Hey."

"Can I…?"

With a sigh, Santana pulled the door open further and stepped aside to let Sam into her room. "Sure."

Before she could even close the door behind them, he launched into his apology. "Listen," he started, giving her arguably the biggest puppy-dog eyes she'd ever seen, "I'm sorry I was an asshole the other day. I can tell that she means more to you than-"

He trailed off when he saw her close her eyes and pinch the bridge of her nose. She leaned against the hotel dresser and let out a long, tired, breath. "Sam…"

"Erica is engaged," he blurted out.

That stopped her. She opened her eyes and slowly let her hand fall away from her face as she looked up at him sympathetically. "What?"

Sam dropped down on the edge of the bed and bowed his head, defeated. "She's getting married. We haven't even been broken up for a year and now she's getting married."

"Oh, wow... Sam, I'm..." Santana pushed herself off of the dresser and made her way over him. She sat down next to him and put her hands in her lap. Suddenly, Sam's completely atypical outburst from the other day made much more sense. Even then, despite wanting to desperately be angry at him, she realized there was something more going on than just his being an asshole for the sake of being one. Because that wasn't Sam at all. That's what had hurt so much at the time. He was hurt and confused. She got that. Losing someone was always hard. But seeing them move on without you…

"I just… I thought I was over her, you know?" He turned his head towards her with a sad smile. "I thought I was starting to finally move on and then…"

Santana nodded. "How did you find out?"

"Facebook," he laughed.

Santana threw her head back and groaned. "I swear Facebook is 99% of the world's problems." She heard Sam hum in agreement beside her. "What are you going to do?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothing. I mean, obviously this guy makes her happier than I ever did." He turned towards Santana and smiled, reaching out to rest his hand on her knee. "I'll be okay. I just wanted to apologize for taking it out on you the other night." Santana put her hand on top of his and squeezed. They had been through a lot together. "The truth is, I think you should keep looking for her. For Quinn."

Santana tensed at the mention of her name and the sudden topic shift. She looked away, shaking her head. "I don't know." After several moments of silence, she voiced something that she hadn't been able to put into words ever since that night. "I think maybe you were right. What if she really was just meant to be with me for one night?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't believe that. I never really did and I don't think you do either."

Santana bowed her head, the dull ache in her chest returning. "What if she's nothing like I think she is in my head?" she asked quietly.

Sam ducked his head to catch Santana's eye. "You're right. What if she's _better_?" He stood up and walked around in front of her. He smiled down at her and held out his hand. "Yup, it's settled; Tonight, right now, we're gonna pull up every single New York medical school and go through every single person until we find her."

Santana shook her head at his encouraging smile. "I've already gone through two of them. It's impossible. I don't even know her last name."

"Then we'll email every single Quinn we come across until we find yours."

Santana's face fell upon hearing him call her that. "Mine," she repeated, not truly able to make the word fit into the context she wanted it to. She exhaled and shook her head once more at the absurdity of it.

Sam pulled her up off the bed and into a strong hug. Immediately grateful, Santana leaned into him, pressing her cheek against his chest as he tightly held her. "Thanks Sam," she mumbled. They stayed like it for several moments, comforting each other, pulling strength from each other. "I'm really sorry about Erica," she whispered.

Sam rested his chin on top of her head and nodded. "Me too."

* * *

**MARCH 27, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

Rachel strolled into Quinn's bedroom without knocking, holding Quinn's cell phone in her hand. "You know your cell phone has been buzzing consistently for the past 42 minutes."

Quinn glanced up from her suitcase and then back down at her stack of neatly folded clothes. "I know. That's why I left it out there."

"Anyone in particular you're avoiding?" Rachel asked with all of the persistence that only Rachel Berry seemed capable of getting away with. When Quinn didn't respond, she sighed and placed the girl's cell phone on her nightstand and sat on the edge of her bed. "Are you almost packed?"

"Just about." Quinn disappeared into her bathroom and returned a moment later with her makeup bag. She dropped it next to her suitcase with a sigh. "I really should spend my spring break here. But my mother insists that I make it home for Easter." Rachel hummed as she began to unpack Quinn's suitcase and then repack it per her own efficiency standards. "How was your show?" Quinn asked, watching her with some amusement.

"It was nice. Nick surprised me with flowers. _Again_," Rachel embellished with an overdramatic sigh.

Quinn smirked and waited until Rachel appeared satisfied with her packing re-work before zipping up the suitcase. "I think it's safe to say he's your number one fan. He's been to what? Six shows?"

"Seven," Rachel smiled. She watched Quinn wander around her bedroom, gathering her books and notes together to shove in her shoulder bag. "Do you want to talk about why you're avoiding Allison?" she asked.

Quinn visibly tensed. "No," she said without turning around.

Rachel sighed. "Quinn is this about Santana - "

Quinn spun around and held up her hand, silencing her with a harsh look. "Please just don't even start."

"If I had known your one night stand would leave you this broken…," Rachel continued.

"I'm not broken," Quinn insisted. "I'm just confused," she finally admitted. Quinn made her way over to the bed and dropped down on the mattress next to Rachel. "I can't seem to stop thinking about it. About her. And it doesn't help that everywhere I look I either see her in a magazine or on television, or her song comes on the radio or I see something ridiculous that reminds me of her." She looked away from Rachel's sympathetic expression. "It's stupid."

Rachel reached out and placed her hand gently on Quinn's back, rubbing slow, calming circles. "It's not stupid, Quinn. You felt something very real for someone and what you two had, it was left unfinished. Of course you're going wonder about what could've been."

Quinn let her back massage continue in silence for a moment, and, for once, Rachel gave her the space to say something when she was ready. "That song - the one I won't let you play?" Quinn started, finally.

"_It's A Shame You're A Dream_?" Rachel asked curiously.

"I think it's about me." Rachel's hand stilled on Quinn's back. Quinn turned towards Rachel and swallowed the lump in her throat. She hadn't wanted to mention it before, it always seemed so stupid. But now… "I left her a note. It said, 'It's a shame you're a dream'." She could feel the tears begin to well up and she desperately fought to keep them back. "Because that's what it felt like it was with her, just a dream."

Rachel felt heartbroken for her friend, who was trying her best to avoid looking at her. "Quinn," she started, unsure of what to say. What _could_ she say?

Quinn lost the battle and the first of the tears fell down her cheek. "Maybe I should just grow up and move on," she sniffled and wiped at her face with her sleeve. "I mean, how stupid am I? I walked out on _her_. Yet here I am hurting so _bad_." She choked out the last word and gave herself over completely to crying. Her body shuddered with ragged, short breaths as she allowed herself to finally let it all out.

"Oh honey," Rachel pulled Quinn into her arms and rested her chin on the top of her head as she cried. She gently stroked her hair and placed a soft kiss against her temple. After a considerable amount of time, she cleared her throat and decided to ask the question. "Don't hate me for asking but, have you thought about, maybe giving Allison a chance?"

To her surprise, she felt Quinn nod against her chest. "Yes. I've thought about it a lot actually," she admitted through the last of her tears. "But I still don't know what to do."

"Well you don't have to decide now," Rachel assured her. "Go home, have a nice little vacation and enjoy the time with your family. Just forget about school, forget about Allison and… everything else. Maybe it will clear your head." Rachel pulled her closer and raked her fingers through her hair.

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed down the sob that threatened to escape once more. As much as she greatly appreciated Rachel's heartfelt suggestion, she doubted very much that the time away would do much, if anything, to help her at all.

* * *

**Thank you again to everyone who has read, reviewed, and messaged me. I tried to make this chapter a little longer in honor of Quinntana Week. **


	9. Chapter 9

**APRIL 1, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

Quinn poured the steaming liquid from the kettle into her mug and dropped the tea bag inside, gently lifting it up and down. Despite the flight and the exhaustion of being interrogated by her mother, the weekend away from New York had been a blessing. She hadn't picked up a single one of her medical journals despite bringing the vast majority of them with her. And she had only checked her email twice.

She had picked up a book in the airport terminal before her flight out; one that had little romance and that had nothing to do with medicine. She drank a lot of tea, went to bed early, and slept in late. She had enjoyed simple conversation with her family and enjoyed separating herself from her everyday life in New York.

Yet, somehow, despite her best efforts, she still found her mind wandering relentlessly back to New Year's Eve and to the pain she still felt in her chest whenever she thought about it. She thought about how guilty she felt whenever she caught Allison looking at her. And however illogical, she repeatedly wondered at how different things might be between her and Allison if New Year's had never happened the way it had.

Quinn sighed and watched the clear liquid change to honey brown as the water became tea. Now that she was home again, the worries she had managed to keep at bay to wash over her again. She sighed heavily and wondered if the decisions she had recently made were the right ones or if she was just going to make an even bigger mess of things.

"Hey! You're back! How was your vacation?"

Rachel walked towards the kitchen, pulling her robe closed and tying it in the front.

"I'd hardly call Easter at my parent's 'vacation'," Quinn smiled.

"Understood." Rachel leaned against the counter and watched as Quinn continued to dunk the bag of tea in and out of her mug. "When did you get home? I didn't hear you come in."

"About forty minutes ago." Quinn let the string hang over the side of her mug and brought the drink to her lips. She blew gently on the steaming liquid, a teasing smile on her lips as she glanced up at her roommate. "You and Nick sounded occupied so I showered and left you to it."

Rachel blushed and slid her arms off of the counter. "That explains the lack of hot water." She tucked her wet hair behind her ear. "Sorry."

"Don't be. At least one of us is getting some," Quinn dismissed with a wave of her hand. Rachel opened her mouth to respond but Quinn shook her head, taking a small sip of her tea and cupping the mug in both of her hands. "Before you ask: yes. The time away was nice. I did a lot of thinking."

Rachel poured the leftover water from the kettle into her mug and reached for the tea box. "Would you care to share?"

Quinn looked down at the steam rising from the top of her mug and chewed on her bottom lip. "I think I'm going to give moving on a serious try. No more moping around and wondering, what if? Life's too short, am I right?"

Rachel's movements stilled as she examined Quinn closely: the way she worried at her bottom lip, how her smile didn't quite reach her eyes… Rachel dropped her bag of tea in her mug and nodded. "Yeah," she agreed halfheartedly. She knew Quinn wasn't happy. She wanted to point out that she shouldn't force herself to do anything until she was ready and to wait until it was the right time. But she could tell Quinn wasn't ready for all that right now. She decided to leave it alone. For tonight anyway. "Life's too short," she repeated and took a sip from her mug.

* * *

**APRIL 6, 2013 – SAN JUAN - PUERTO RICO**

Santana fanned herself in the afternoon heat as she and Puck watched the girls on the street below walk by in very little clothing. Puck made cat calls as they passed and asked for their phone numbers. "Man, I love Puerto Rico," he grinned as the girls giggled and hurried away, stealing looks back at him over their shoulders.

Santana looked at him disgusted. "You do realize they're like, fifteen, right?"

"What? No they aren't!" he said indignantly. "They're _at least_ seventeen." He fished for something in the back pocket of his jeans.

Santana snorted and leaned on her forearms, looking down the busy street. Puck jabbed a cigarette between his lips and extended the pack towards her.

She glanced down at his hand then shook her head, turning back to people watching. Puck grunted and shook his head. "What; did you, like, quit for real?"

"Yes, Puck. I quit 'for real'," she sighed.

"Why?"

Santana just turned and gave him a look.

"Okay, fine. Dumb question," he shrugged. He stuck the pack into his back pocket and mirrored her posture, resting his forearms over the railing and resuming watching the people below. They were quiet for a long time. "Did you ever think we'd get this far? That we'd be touring the world with hot chicks throwing themselves at us?" Puck asked in between drags.

She looked at him in surprise, amused by the suddenly introspective Noah Puckerman. It was fairly adorable, really. From anyone else, it might have seemed like a throwaway question meant to fill in an awkward silence. But she knew for Puck to put the thought together, it meant he had been truly thinking about it. Santana smiled. "Of course I did. Boston's finest rocking out in the garage? Please. Like anything could hold us back for long."

"We were such punks," Puck laughed. "But do you ever really think about it? Growing up, sitting at the quarry, shootin' the shit about who were gonna be someday?"

Santana nodded. "Yeah, I do." She often thought back to growing up in Boston, running around the streets with Puck. Causing trouble. _Neighbors since second grade, friends for life_, they used to say.

"I've known you most of my life, Lopez," he started, not taking his eyes off the busy street. "I know when something's bothering you. I mean, like, really bothering you. But I'm not gonna do all that gay-ass, girly crap with you and make you share your feelings."

Santana arched an eyebrow. "I appreciate that," she said dryly. Internally, she was more than a little surprised at the turn in conversation.

Puck turned his head to look at her. "But I'm here, you know? If you decided you can't keep it in any longer."

Santana couldn't help it. She laughed. It was touching really - these rare little emotional pep talks from Puck. Every now and then, when no one else was around to witness it, he could actually be a pretty decent human being.

He stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle, waving his hand above his head. "Yo, chicas! Up here!" Puck yelled down to two more girls passing by. They stopped and looked up, shielding their eyes against the sun. "Lookin' good, ladies! Very caliente!"

And just like that, the moment was gone. Santana rolled her eyes and pushed herself off of the railing to head back into the hotel, leaving Puck behind with the girls below.

* * *

**APRIL 8, 2013 – HEALTH AND SCIENCES LIBRARY – COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY - NYC**

Quinn carefully navigated through the library knowing full well that Allison would be there. Every time they had a break or a long weekend, Allison would drag herself to the library to catch up on studying. It was nearly a guarantee she was here now. Quinn made her way towards the back and stopped abruptly when she saw her at one of the tables there, engrossed in her notes.

She gripped her bag tightly in her hand and took a deep breath, completely frozen with indecision. It wasn't that Allison wasn't incredibly nice. And it wasn't as if Quinn wasn't attracted to her. She was. It was just... She couldn't quite place her finger on it.

_I'm being ridiculous_, she told herself. _Allison is great. _ She took another deep breath and made her way towards the table.

Allison glanced up as she approached and did a double-take when she saw who it was. "Quinn, hi!"

"Hi," Quinn smiled. She motioned towards the scattered books and notebooks and arched an eyebrow. "Can we talk? Or are you too busy playing catch-up?" she teased.

Allison shook her head and pushed her notes and books away from the vacant chair beside her. "No, no not at all. Please, sit," she motioned towards the chair. Quinn smiled and sat down, pulling her bag down into her lap. "How was your break?"

The intensity in which Allison was staring at her, giving Quinn her full attention, was slightly unnerving. "It was good. I went home for a few days for Easter. Other than that it was fairly quiet. Yours?"

Allison shrugged. "Not too bad. I went to visit my mom in Philly. She bought me a ton of groceries. That was nice." Quinn nodded. She looked down at the table and chewed the inside of her cheek. She could do this. She knew she could. Allison leaned in slightly. "Hey, are you okay?"

Quinn glanced up, straightened herself in her chair and decided to go for it. "Do you still want to have dinner?" Allison arched an eyebrow. Quinn blushed and looked away. "I mean, are you still interested in having dinner with me?" she continued in a small voice.

Allison looked fairly blindsided. Quinn shifted nervously, suddenly feeling like she'd made a huge mistake. She was about to take back the whole thing when Allison suddenly beamed at her. "Yes! Absolutely I am," she blurted, nodding her head.

Quinn looked up and felt oddly guilty about how excited the other girl was. But she had to admit, her excitement _was_ contagious. And she was incredibly relieved to not have to awkwardly backpedal away from the offer. "Are you free Friday night? After rounds?"

Allison smiled. "Friday night is perfect."

Quinn nodded and smiled at the other girl before standing up from the table. "Great." She gripped her bag tightly and turned to walk away.

"Quinn," Allison called out. "What changed your mind?" she asked curiously when Quinn turned back to her.

Quinn's smile faltered. She tried to come up with a reason, something other than, "I need to get over a one-night stand that happened months ago and I thought I'd try that by going out with you," but nothing else coherent came to her. She shrugged weakly and shook her head, not knowing what to say. Allison regarded her curiously for a moment and then nodded, accepting Quinn's non-answer.

Quinn smiled and turned to leave. She couldn't shake feeling guilty over the whole thing. She was going into this without the emotion she was sure she was supposed to be feeling. She should be excited that a very attractive girl just agreed to a date, rather than hopeful that this one girl might hopefully replace the thought of another. _But that will change_, she told herself. _Right?_

* * *

**APRIL 11, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

"I'm so glad you could make it," Blaine said as he helped her out of her coat. Once he'd hung it up for her, he turned and led her to the living room, gesturing towards a huge ivory-colored couch.

"I'm already going to miss the LA and New York premieres, there was no way I was going to miss the private screening on top of that," Santana said as she sunk down into one of the posh couch cushions. She glanced around the large apartment. The first few times she had visited Blaine the apartment was still being renovated. It was a small disaster with half-painted walls and ongoing repairs Santana was sure would never get finished. Now it was high-class and incredibly chic. She was sure Kurt had something to do with that. Which reminded her: "Where's Kurt?" she asked.

"Milan. Spring trends," Blaine said with a smirk as he walked towards the kitchen. "Such is the life of a fashionista." He returned with an open bottle of wine and two stemless glasses. "Are you sure you're okay with eating here? It's early, we can still go out."

Santana shook her head and waved his offer away. "No, no this is great. I'm so jetlagged that my body has no idea where we are or what time it is. The last thing I need is to fall asleep face-deep in my food with the paparazzi right outside the window."

"Understood." Blaine poured two generous glasses and handed one to Santana as he sat down next to her, crossing one leg over the other. "Where are you heading next? Asia right?"

Santana nodded and took a long, grateful sip of her wine and leaned back on the couch."Leaving for Hong Kong on Sunday."

Blaine looked surprised. "So soon? Your body must be a mess!" Santana hummed in agreement. "How's the tour going so far?"

"Great. It's been great." Santana took another taste and sat back. An incredibly trendy looking painting of what appeared to be New York's Garment District caught her attention. It hung purposefully between two maroon and gold-laced linens in a spot in which most people would have simply just hung a flat-screen TV. She nodded to the unspoken confirmation that this apartment was indeed the work of someone other than Blaine. "You know, I don't think I've seen your apartment finished. It looks great! Was it next to impossible to find this place?"

Blaine glanced around the room with a nod. "Well, it's been a work in progress. But we're happy with it." He turned towards Santana and tilted his head curiously. "Are you thinking about getting a new place?"

"I've been thinking about it." Santana turned her glass of wine and looked down at the red liquid. "I miss the east coast. It'd be nice to be closer to my family."

Blaine placed his glass on the coffee table, unable to keep the grin from his face. "Well, let me get you my realtor's card. She's fantastic. One second." He disappeared and returned a moment later with the card. "There you go," he said, handing it to her with clear excitement written all over his face. "I have to tell you, I think it's a great idea."

Santana laughed. His enthusiasm was infectious. "Thanks."

"Menus!" he suddenly remembered. Just as quickly as he had sat back down, Blaine bounced back up and motioned for Santana to stay seated. "Totally forgot. You stay comfortable; I'm going to go grab some take-out menus."

Santana glanced down at the business card in her hand and nodded. Blaine was right. This all certainly felt like a good idea.

* * *

**APRIL 12, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY – SCARPETTA**

"This place is great," Quinn said as she cut her roasted organic chicken. "I can't believe you got a reservation here."

"Not gonna lie, I was pretty shocked too," Allison admitted, glancing around the crowded yet tiny restaurant.

Quinn smiled. She was surprised and a little more than relieved to find that she was actually enjoying herself. Not that that should be too surprising, she realized. She had known Allison for quite a while. There was already a fundamental friendship here. What's more, she didn't have to _try_. Conversation was easy and unforced and they shared a lot in common. And, true to her word from Valentine's Day, Allison hadn't tried to make any kind of move on her. So far, everything had gone much better than she expected. Maybe this dating thing _could_ work for them.

Allison put down her fork and looked over at her. "So, I have to ask…," Allison began. "And I know this is probably taboo, but inquiring minds and all that…"

Quinn smiled curiously and lifted her wine glass. "Okay, shoot."

Allison leaned forward. "What did you get on your boards?"

"Oh my God," Quinn mumbled, taking a rather long sip of her wine.

"I know, I know, it's a horribly tacky question but I can't help it. You're a natural at just about everything we've done so far and I'm very jealous." Quinn shook her head and looked down at her glass. "Please? I'll tell you mine." Quinn looked up. "I got a 231/96."

"That's a good score," Quinn said, impressed. Allison shrugged. It _was_ a good score. It was above average anyway. She reached for her fork and went back to her dinner.

Allison reached for her wine glass, her eyes still on Quinn. "Come on, please tell me."

The blonde sighed and pushed the spinach around on her plate. She clearly wasn't getting out of this one like she'd hoped to. "I got a 269/99."

Allison almost choked on her wine. She coughed several times and brought her hand to her mouth as she swallowed the liquid roughly and put the glass back on the table. "A 269?"

Quinn didn't look up from her salad. "I studied a lot."

"Oh my God, Quinn," she said, leaning forward on the table again. "You got a 269 on your USMLE Step 1?"

Quinn sighed. This was why she didn't like to discuss test results. She had always been an excellent test taker. Her scores were traditionally always very high. She didn't like being the center of attention when it came to her studies. When others found out, they either wanted to be her best friend that constantly sought out help with studying or they simply hated her out of spite. Quinn had long ago made it an unspoken rule to avoid the topic whenever possible.

"Wow, I'm just… that's amazing," Allison said, reaching for her fork to resume her meal. "Beautiful _and_ intelligent. You, Quinn Fabray, are quite the catch."

Quinn forced a smile. Despite the success of their date so far, she still wasn't sure if she was ready to be "caught".

* * *

**APRIL 17, 2013 – SOMEWHERE OVER THE SOUTH CHINA SEA**

_Quinn slid her hand up and across the other girl's toned stomach, seeking out Santana's breast. She cupped it lightly, flicking her thumb out across the brunette's nipple, eliciting an approving moan in the process. She caressed and massaged and grew bolder with every movement. She brought her head down to Santana's skin, kissing down from her neck to her cleavage, eventually taking a nipple into her mouth. There was absolutely no rush to her movements. She took her time becoming aquatinted with both breasts, learning every inch of them. Memorizing all her curves. She nibbled lightly and grinned when Santana's soft and encouraging moans turned into frustrated and desperate groans._

_Santana tangled her hands in Quinn's hair, pulling her in even closer. She squirmed beneath her, arching her back off of the bad. She pressed into Quinn's body as it hovered over her. _

_Quinn was happy to take her time, alternating her attention from one breast to the other. She dragged her lips back and forth, diving her time equally between them. She drank in the sound and smell of Santana, memorizing how she felt. How her skin tasted_

_Eventually she trailed her hand down Santana's torso, her fingertips ghosting over her skin as she went. Santana shivered as Quinn's hand dipped lower._

_Quinn took a nipple lightly between her teeth and suddenly, yet slowly, slipped a finger between Santana's legs._

_"Shit," Santana exhaled as Quinn's index finger slid up and across her clit._

_Quinn smiled and dropped wet kisses across Santana's collar. She breathed against her neck and easily pushed two fingers inside of her. _

_Jesus, Quinn," Santana called, out not expecting, but definitely not complaining, about the sudden entrance inside of her._

_Quinn moved her fingers in and out slowly, teasing and creating an achingly slow build._

_Santana reached out and grabbed Quinn's arms, pulling herself upwards towards her so that she could crush her lips against Quinn's. Her hands ran possessively back through Quinn's hair as she gripped Quinn's head tightly as their tongues fought for control. Santana bent one of her knees, lifting her leg so that the bottom of her foot was on the mattress, opening herself even more._

_Quinn took advantage and increased the rhythm of her movements. Santana had to break their kiss to suck in several ragged breaths. She fell back towards the mattress, taking Quinn with her and crashed their mouths together once more._

_Santana's hands lowered to Quinn's back, digging her fingers into her skin. She moaned into Quinn's mouth and threw her head back. "Don't stop," she gasped as Quinn's lips lowered to her exposed neck._

_Seconds later, Santana unraveled. She arched high off of the bed and loudly called out Quinn's name. She dug her nails into Quinn's back as she squeezed her eyes shut and climaxed. Hard. _

_Quinn dropped long, lazy kisses across Santana's jaw, her fingers slowly moving inside of her until Santana's body went completely still. Santana dropped back down on the bed with a long and satisfied moan. Quinn smiled and slowly removed her fingers, Santana whining, missing them instantly._

_Santana's eyes remained closed as Quinn kissed her cheeks, her closed eyelids, her chin, the sides of her lips, her forehead and nose; anything she could reach along Santana's face. Santana grinned at being bathed in kisses. Her breathing was heavy and she threw one of her arms above her head. A small bead of sweat trailed down the side of her face. Quinn reached out to wipe it away with her thumb. She lightly kissed Santana on the lips and lay on her side facing her._

_Santana opened her eyes and rolled her head to Quinn who watched her curiously. She smirked and reached out, pulling Quinn's body against her. She grabbed the comforter and tugged until it was wrapped securely around them both._

_Quinn rested her head on her shoulder and smiled as the thin layer of sweat that covered her skin warmed her cheek. Her arm wrapped around Santana's stomach, but remained intertwined with Santana's own. Quinn closed her eyes with a sigh as Santana ran her hand through her hair, slowly massaging her scalp._

_"You know," Santana started playfully. "I'm thinking I need to get more tattoos..."_

_Quinn buried her face against Santana's neck and laughed._

Santana awoke with a start, sitting upright in her seat and flinging her arms out to her sides reflexively.

Sam jolted awake immediately after as Santana's arm smacked him in the chest "What? What happened? Where are we?" Sam looked around the plane frantically. The cabin was dark despite the sporadic overhead lights. No one else seemed to be disturbed. He turned his head towards Santana who was running a shaky hand through her hair. "What happened? Are we crashing?" he blurted.

"Nothing," Santana said, shaking her head. She ran her hand through her hair and forced a smile. "Nothing happened. We aren't crashing. Go back to sleep." She reached over and patted him on the arm.

Sam mumbled incoherently and sank back into his seat. He closed his eyes and, with nothing more than a sigh, drifted almost at once back to sleep.

Santana pulled her blanket further up her body and rested her forehead against the window, which was too darkened to see anything out of anyway. Within minutes she realized it was useless; she wasn't going to be falling back asleep any time soon. Despite the content, the memories of her time with Quinn haunted her dreams and the pain in her chest when she awoke wasn't getting any easier to deal with.

It was going to be a long ride to Bali.

* * *

**APRIL 19, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY - ALLISON'S APARTMENT**

Allison sighed as the credits began to roll. She lifted her head off of Quinn's shoulder and reached for the remote to stop the DVD.

Quinn stretched her arms and yawned. She checked her watch and let out a groan. It was way past her bedtime. Even for a Friday night. She dreaded the twenty-five minute drive home. "It's late. I should probably get going." She pushed the blanket off of her lap and tried to stand, but Allison reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back down on the couch.

Quinn smiled as Allison slipped her arm around her waist and pulled her closer, their faces almost touching. "Or… you could _not_ go," she said, her eyes lifting to meet Quinn's.

Quinn held her breath. She knew what Allison was asking. But did she really want to take their relationship to the next level? Was she really ready?

She leaned in and brushed her lips across Allison's, feeling her smile against her mouth. She pressed further into Allison, making up her mind as she went. She was ready.

* * *

**APRIL 29, 2013 -** **NEW YORK - PRESBYTERIAN HOSPITAL**

"Damn that girl is gonna be late." Mercedes laughed and glanced at the large white clock on the wall above the counter.

"She better not be," Quinn said idly as she finished reading about the state of the economy in the day's paper. "She's already been late twice. If it happens again, I bet she ends up scrubbing bed pans for the rest of the week." She folded the newspaper and placed it back where she found it.

"Oh look, here she comes. Look at her running like she's trying to win a gold medal," Mercedes laughed.

Quinn elbowed her in the side but couldn't help the amused smile on her lips. "Be nice."

"Morning," Allison said, panting, as she came to a screeching halt at the nurses' station.

"Morning," Quinn echoed with a smirk. She glanced down at her watch and lifted an eyebrow. "One minute away from being late."

"That close, huh?"

Quinn held up her watch in front of Allison's face, making her wince.

"Alright cut the chatter," their instructor said as she seemingly materialized out of nowhere. "We have surgeries to get to and patients to see."

Allison and Quinn listened and responded idly as the instructor proceeded to take attendance and started assigning stacks of charts to the students. Allison leaned towards Quinn, their shoulders bumping. "I missed you this morning," she whispered. "Do you want to have dinner tonight?"

Quinn stared at their instructor for a moment, waiting until she was looking away before leaning in towards Allison. "I can't. I told Rachel we'd have roommate bonding time," she said apologetically.

Allison sighed. "Lunch?"

The ends of Quinn's lips turned upwards into a small smile. "I can do lunch."

"Fabray." Quinn straightened as her name was called. "You get… Mr. Lopez. He needs sutures on his cheek and you're up. Dr. Lilse will be in there to assist."

Quinn swallowed roughly at the name. She was beginning to feel as if the world was playing a cruel joke on her. Their instructor extended a clipboard in her direction and arched an eyebrow as she waited for Quinn to take it. Allison bumped her shoulder and nudged her forward. "See you at noon," she whispered as Quinn reached out to take the chart.

* * *

**MAY 11, 2013 – PARIS, FRANCE**

Santana pushed her sunglasses up onto the top of her head as she stepped into the shop. She stood inside the doorway and glanced around the store filled with people gushing over various souvenirs and trinkets.

"Wow," Mike said, stepping up beside Santana. "This place is great!" Santana smirked and the two turned their separate ways to peruse through the aisles and stands.

There was so much to look at. She figured she probably should buy something while they were here. Her mom would love a gift from Paris. Especially if it was fashion related.

Her eyebrows lifted as she passed by the lingerie. "Definitely a no," she murmured to herself. "How about a nice necklace," she wondered out loud as she looked around for the jewelry selection.

Santana turned the corner and her eyes fell on a large 15" Eiffel Tower, lit up by a golden light within. It was a beautiful model of what the structure looked like a night. Nothing incredible, in truth, and typically something she would pass by without a second glance. Instead, she found herself moving towards it. She stepped up to the model and reached out, her fingertips lightly brushing the metal sides. She stared at the light inside, her eyes glazing over.

_"Tell me something," Santana requested, brushing the hair from Quinn's face._

_"Like what?" Quinn asked._

_"About you," Santana clarified. She felt Quinn smile against her chest. "Tell me anything about you."_

_"Um…" Quinn thought for a moment. "I'm fluent in French."_

_Santana lifted her head and looked down at the girl lying across her chest. "Really?"_

_Quinn turned her head and laughed at Santana's surprised expression. "Really."_

_"Say something."_

_Quinn sat up slightly and looked down at her, smiling at her intrigued expression. "What do you want me to say?"_

_"Anything."_

_"Okay," Quinn agreed thoughtfully and cleared her throat. She leaned down and whispered seductively into Santana's ear. Her warm breath tickled her skin as the words easily rolled off of her tongue seductively._

_"That was _really_ sexy," Santana exhaled as Quinn pulled away. She slid both hands up Quinn's neck and pushed her fingers through her hair. "What did you say?"_

_"All good things come to those who wait." She reached out and brought Santana's wrist up to her lips. "Roughly translated of course."_

_"Of course," Santana laughed. "Have you ever been to France?" Her eyes followed Quinn's mouth as the girl turned her head to kiss her other wrist._

_"Once," Quinn sighed. "I was fourteen. I loved it. I've always wanted to go back. Paris is just… amazing. I remember instantly falling in love with the Eiffel Tower, especially at night when it's all lit up, you know? I had the most amazing love affair with that city. And I wasn't even old enough to drink."_

_"Well, maybe when you finish med school you can go back. Have your fill on wine and croissants and stare at the Eiffel Tower lovingly all night long," Santana teased._

_Quinn reached out and softly brushed her fingers across Santana's mouth. Santana's eyebrow arched curiously as Quinn lowered her head and replaced her fingers with her lips._

"What do you think about this for Tina?"

Santana jumped, caught off guard by Mike's question. She looked down at the large snow globe with the word "PARIS" mounted largely on the bottom and the Eifel Tower inside. She glanced up at him. He had the most innocent and hopeful expression on his face as he desperately awaited her answer. She sighed, the memory of Quinn vanishing from her mind. "You're in the city of love and you want to buy your girlfriend a snow globe?"

He glanced down at the object in his hands and nodded. "You're right. I need something bigger." He turned around and took off down the aisle with a determined look on his face.

Santana frowned and glanced back at the lit-up Eiffel Tower. She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and turned towards the jewelry selection.

* * *

**MAY 18, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

Quinn looked around the table at the home cooked meal made especially for her. Nick was heading back to the kitchen with the rest of the plates and dishes. "Thank you guys for this," said Quinn. "It's exactly what I wanted. And thank you, Nick, for cooking. It was fabulous."

"It was my pleasure," he said as he came back over and plopped down in his chair.

Rachel clapped her hands together excitedly. "Time for presents!" She stood and walked towards her room, where she had been hiding the packages. She came back with two rather large boxes balanced in her arms. "I know you said no gifts, but did you seriously think we'd agree to that?" She beamed as she placed the gifts in front of Quinn.

"You guys really shouldn't have," she said, looking from her roommate to Nick. She then glanced at Allison, who shrugged innocently and draped her arm across the back of her chair.

"Me first!" Nick said, pushing his gift closer to Quinn.

Quinn laughed and reached for the box, carefully tearing the paper away. She peered inside the Amazon box and arched an eyebrow. "Movies," she said as she reached in and pulled out three of the dozen or so DVDs. "Lots of movies." She scanned the covers. "_Patch Adams, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Young Doctor's in Love_." She glanced up at Nick. "Are these all movies about doctors?"

"Yup! And," he leaned over to point to something else inside of the box, "_The Complete Collection of Scrubs_," he said proudly.

"What, no _Grey's Anatomy_?" Allison murmured in amusement.

"And look at the bottom!" He said excitedly.

Quinn was afraid to look. She pushed the DVDs to the side and pulled out a blue piece of fabric. She held it up and arched an eyebrow. "A New York Giant's scrub cap," she commented dryly.

Rachel rounded on her boyfriend, displeased. "Nick. She doesn't even watch football. Let alone root for the Giants. We're from _Ohio_."

"I know that! But come on, I mean, who really roots for the Bengals or worse, the Browns?" He shivered in disgust.

Rachel rolled her eyes and pushed her package forward. "I'm sorry about that. He _clearly_ did that on his own." Quinn laughed and reached for Rachel's gift. "I assure you, mine is much more practical."

Rachel's "practical" card was one of the sappiest cards Quinn had ever received. But that was Rachel, and Quinn loved her for it. So she just shook her head and smiled. She moved to un-wrap the immaculately packaged gift that accompanied the card. She had barely pushed the wrapping paper aside and lifted the lid to the box before Rachel started excitedly explaining her gift.

"Since I can't get you to go to the spa with me, I thought I'd bring the spa to you!" Rachel beamed.

Quinn pulled the large, overstuffed basket out of the box. "Candles, bubble bath, lotion…"

"And shampoo and conditioner and the most _incredible_ face wash," Rachel finished as she pointed to the items. "Just because you're busy doesn't mean you shouldn't pamper yourself from time to time."

Quinn smiled and reached out to give her roommate a one armed hug. "Thank you, Rachel. That's really nice."

"I got you something too," Allison said and got up to go to her purse.

Quinn carefully placed her basket back in the box and turned in her chair as Allison walked back towards the table. "You didn't have to," she said, eyeing the envelope in her girlfriend's hands.

"Seriously?" Allison laughed. "I _wanted_ to."

Quinn took the envelope and opened it. Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment at the suggestive handwritten note inside. "Thank you," she murmured and managed a quick, awkward look at Allison, who was smirking knowingly at her. Before anyone - namely Rachel - asked her to read the card out loud, Quinn quickly moved onto the smaller envelope inside.

"What did you get? Sex coupons?" Nick teased.

"She doesn't need coupons," Allison countered. "She can have _that_ whenever she wants."

Rachel shot him a look as Quinn opened the smaller envelope, ignoring the side conversation, and pulled out the items within. She froze when her eyes landed on the last two words she was expecting.

"What is it?" Rachel asked, noticing the uncomfortable expression on Quinn's face.

"Concert tickets," Quinn said, doing her best to smile appreciatively. She turned them around and held them up for Rachel to see, fearful that her voice would stop working if she said the rest aloud.

Rachel looked at the tickets. Her broad smile disappeared and she cleared her throat. "You got her Crossing Arizona tickets?" she asked Allison but stared at Quinn.

"Four of them actually. I thought we could all go together," Allison shrugged. "The show isn't until October so stick them on your fridge or something so you don't lose them."

"We're all going?" Nick beamed. He pumped his fist in the air. "This is awesome! Best birthday ever!"

Allison reached out and placed her hand on Quinn's back. "You listen to them on your iPod sometimes and I saw their latest CD in your room. I figured it would be fun if we all went together."

Quinn continued to force a smile and nodded as she stuck the tickets back in the envelope. "It's great. Thank you."

Rachel clapped her hands together and stood. "So, who wants cake? I think it's time for cake." She made her way to the kitchen for a distraction as Quinn reached for her wine, finishing it in one large gulp.

* * *

**MAY 29, 2013 – TUSCANY - ITALY**

_"I'll be right back."_

_Santana nodded and watched pointedly as Quinn wrapped the comforter around her body and made her way to the bathroom. She sighed when she heard the door quietly close and glanced at the clock. 3:42. She pushed off the sheets, grabbed her jeans from the floor and slipped them on. She moved to find a t-shirt and boots next. Once she was adequately clothed, she got moved towards the balcony door, running a hand through her bed-head hair as she went. Santana pulled her leather jacket off of the back of the chair next to the door and shrugged it on._

_Snatching a pack of cigarettes from the dresser, she pulled open the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. She pulled the door partly closed behind her. The cold air made her shiver as she removed the lighter tucked away within the pack and carefully lit one of the cigarettes. She inhaled deeply and slipped the items back in her jacket pocket as she took a slow, deep drag._

_Santana glanced down at the street below and smirked at all the partying still so clearly going on. She wondered briefly if she would be among them if not for the beautiful woman freshening up in her bathroom. She couldn't help but smile._

_She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, stretching her arms above her head. She rolled her shoulders back, rotating the kinks out of her surprisingly sore upper torso. So far, this New Year's was turning out to be a lot better than she had expected. Taking another puff from her cigarette, she wondered if Quinn would be interested in having dinner with her tomorrow night._

_Santana glanced behind her as the sliding glass door was pulled open. She smiled when Quinn stepped outside wearing her favorite plain grey hoodie and black yoga pants. Santana arched an eyebrow when she noticed Quinn had even rogued her untied Chuck Taylor's. "I hope you don't mind," Quinn said with a blush as she glanced down at the clothes she picked up off of a chair in the corner of the room._

_Santana ran her eyes back up the girl's body and shook her head. "They look good on you," she said, slowly bringing the cigarette to her lips._

_Quinn smiled and stepped up beside Santana, shoving her hands in the front pocket of the sweatshirt. She shivered and looked up at the sky. "It feels like it's going to snow again."_

_Santana exhaled the smoke through her nose and reached over with her free hand. She pulled the hood up so it was covering Quinn's head. Gently, she pushed the hair from her face and cupped her chin in her hand. Santana looked Quinn in the eyes and ran her thumb gently over her bottom lip with a smile. "There," she said, letting her hand drop from Quinn's face. "Gotta keep your head warm."_

_Quinn smiled and turned to look out across the skyline. Santana turned and gazed out with her. "I love New York," she said. "I love the energy." She took a long drag from her cigarette and tilted her head back, releasing the smoke into the air. "But man do I miss the stars," she said, looking up. _

_Quinn turned her attention the sky. "I love the stars," she said wistfully. "When I was a kid, I used to climb out of my window up to the roof just to lay there and stare up at them for hours." She pointed to one particular area of the inky black sky above them. "See right there?" Santana looked out at the blank sky where Quinn was pointing. "That's where Taurus would be. And over there," she pointed somewhere new, "Ursa Major. And there, Orion." Santana turned her head to watch as she pointed to various parts of the sky. "And right there__,__ is the star Sirius. It's part of Orion's belt. It's the brightest star in the sky. Which I guess is why we can faintly see it. It reaches its highest point on New Year's Eve right at midnight." She stared up at the spot for a moment, proud of herself for remembering. After a brief moment, she turned her head to find Santana watching her with a soft smile. Quinn blushed, slightly embarrassed. "I know. I'm kind of a geek."_

_Santana shook her head. "No. Not at all. It's kind of awesome actually. That you know all that." Quinn looked away and back up at the sky. Santana stared at her, took in her hooded profile and small smile. Who _was_ this girl?_

_She brought the cigarette back to her lips and took one last long drag before she snuffed it out on the railing and tossed it in the cup she had placed on the ground next to the door. "I wonder what all those people are doing down there," Quinn said as she idly watched the cars below._

_"I don't know," Santana exhaled. "Trying to get their drunk asses home I guess."_

_Quinn laughed. "Probably," she agreed. She turned her head and met the other girl's brown eyes._

_Santana stepped forward and slipped her hands inside the front of the hoodie Quinn was wearing. She pulled the girl towards her and reached out, cradling the side's of her neck in her chilly hands. "I'm glad you're up here. With me." _

_Quinn smiled and leaned in, brushing her lips lightly against Santana's. "Me too," she confessed softly. "Even if you do smell like an ashtray."_

_Santana laughed. "I know. I promise I'll quit," she said with a sigh. "Will you kiss me anyway?"_

_"Hmm…" Quinn pretended to wrestle with the thought for a moment. Santana arched an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I could resist," she confessed with a teasing smile. "And since you promised to quit."_

_"Good to know." Santana leaned in and kissed her softly. "So tell me," she murmured. "What's your favorite constellation?"_

_"Leo, the Lion," Quinn answered easily. "But you can only see that in the spring," she said wrapping her arms around Santana's neck._

_Santana grinned against Quinn's lips. "I'll have to remember that."_

_Quinn stepped forward, pushing Santana backwards towards the door, her hands falling to the girl's jacket, ready to tug it off of her. Santana reached behind her for the door and pushed it open, happy to allow herself to be steered back inside. They kissed deeply, frantically, as they undressed each other, once again discarding their clothes and tossing them onto the floor. _

"Here you are," Sam said from behind her. She exhaled deeply, and once again began the now familiar task of separating herself from memory and reality. Sam extended his hand and handed her a fresh bottle of beer.

Santana grinned and took the bottle. "Why do I feel like you're always bringing me beer?"

"Maybe because you always seem to need it." Sam climbed up on the railing beside her and looked out to the ocean. "Are you hiding from anyone in particular?"

Santana laughed and finished her current beer to make way for the new one. She set the empty bottle down onto the railing beside her. "No," she lied.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked. "Because there's a disgustingly hot Italian model inside wondering where you disappeared to." Santana sighed. "And you _don't_ seem too excited about that."

"I just wish Puck would stop trying to set me up with every other girl he meets," she grumbled as she brought the cold beer bottle to her lips.

Sam laughed and shook his head. "Are you serious?" He turned his head to look her. After a few seconds, she cracked and flashed him a small smile as she took a long sip. "Do you even hear yourself?" he continued now that he knew she was finding the humor in it all. "You have _models_ wanting to tear your clothes off! Do you know how many people would give _anything_ for that?" He laughed again and took a pull from his beer. He cast a sideways glance at Santana who was once again staring back up into the starry sky above them. He sighed. "Puck's just worried about you, you know. He's trying to help."

"Why?" Santana laughed, turning her head to look at him. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, for the most part," he agreed. "But we know better."

"I'm fine," Santana assured him with a small smile. "I promise."

Sam watched her for a moment and then nodded. "Okay," he relented. They both turned and looked out at the full moon reflecting off of the ocean. "It's so damn beautiful here," he said.

"Yeah, it is," Santana agreed. "Here, look," she said, tugging at his shirt sleeve to get his attention. She pointed up above them. "See that constellation there?" She waited until Sam nodded. "That's Leo. You can only see it in the spring."

Sam glanced at the brunette and then back up at the group of stars she had pointed towards. "How do you know that?"

Santana shrugged a sad smile on her lips. "Someone told me once. Kinda stuck with me." She stared at the stars and thought of Quinn in New York. It would be just after 4pm there. A few more hours and the stars would be out for her too. Did Quinn do this too, Santana wondered? Did she walk outside to look at the stars every night? Did it mean much of anything if she did?

Santana sighed, not sure that it even mattered. "Come on," she said as she hopped off the railing "_Isabella_ is waiting," she mimicked in a horribly bad Italian accent.

Sam smiled and jumped off the railing. "That's more like it."

Santana returned the smile and playfully ruffled his shaggy hair as they walked back towards the house. She paused only briefly to glance over her shoulder and back out at the stars, her smile slightly faltering.

**NEW YORK CITY ROOFTOPS**

"Here you are," Rachel said as she propped the door to the roof open with the cement block. "How can you even see?"

Quinn looked over at Rachel with a smile. She was lying in a lounge chair, a blanket pulled up to her chest. Her textbook opened across her stomach. "I lean in close to the light," she said with a smile.

Rachel hummed as she took in the small, white, plastic table with the battery operated lantern placed in the middle. "You better hope we don't lose power or you won't have juice for that thing. And you know what that means," she said with a pointed look as she sat down next to the blonde in the matching lounge chair.

"Yes, yes," Quinn laughed. "I'll be surrounded by your variety of scented candles." Rachel nodded seriously and leaned back in the chair. They sat together in silence, just staring up at the dark sky. Finally, Quinn spoke, her voice quiet and contemplative. "Do you ever look up at the stars and wonder if someone else out there is looking up at them too?"

"Sometimes," Rachel admitted, wondering fervently at where her friend's questions were coming from. "How are things going with Allison?" she tried.

Quinn reached for her book and leaned back in towards the lantern. "They're good."

Rachel glanced at Quinn and waited. "That's it?" she asked when it was obvious that the moment had passed. "You're not going to give me any more details than 'they're good'?" Quinn ignored her and continued her reading. "You've been spending more and more time over there," Rachel continued.

Quinn chuckled but didn't lift her eyes from her book. "She's great. Really," she said.

Rachel arched an eyebrow. "But…?" Quinn ignored her. "Look, I'm going to ask this once and then I'll drop it, I promise." She waited until she had the other girl's attention. "Do you want me to see if I can reach out to Santana?"

Just hearing the name made her flinch. "Reach out?" Quinn asked, confused.

"Well, with my newfound stardom, I'm starting to get connections. I'm sure one of them wouldn't mind doing me a favor. It's the best chance we have at contacting her," Rachel explained seriously.

Quinn sighed and leaned away from the lantern."I appreciate that, Rach. Really, I do. But what am I supposed to do? Write her some fan mail? Seal it with a kiss?"

"Well, I don't know. But maybe we could figure something out for the concert in October. Try and get backstage?" Rachel suggested.

"No. Rachel, please no," Quinn begged. "I think it's time to be realistic and move on. We had an unforgettable New Year's. But Allison's here. She's real and things are going well. I really think I need to give that a fair shot."

Rachel studied her for a long moment before nodding her head. "Okay," she relented. "But if you ever change your mind…"

Quinn smiled. "Thank you." She leaned back in her chair and let her gaze once again adjust to the handful of barely visible stars, her eyes seeking out Leo.

* * *

**MAY 30, 2013 – TUSCANY, ITALY**

Santana groaned and rolled over on her back. She had no idea what time it was, but she knew it was too early to be awake. And she knew that her head was pounding. How much did she drink last night? She pinched the bridge of her nose and massaged her forehead. She was gonna hurt for sure later this morning.

The sound of a small sigh made her freeze in place. Her eyes snapped open. Someone shifted on the bed beside her. _Please just don't let it be Puck_. _Anyone but Puck,_ she thought as she slowly turned her head to the other side of the bed_. _Santana exhaled slowly; it wasn't Puck.

But her relief was short-lived. Her eyes travelled down the bare back and ass that weren't covered by the sheets. Santana lifted her head and looked down, peeking under the sheets to look down at her own body. Yup, equally naked. She grimaced.

She fell back down on the bed and closed her eyes. "Shit," she whispered to herself. How much did she have to drink last night? She turned her head back to her bedmate and stared at her. The woman was turned away, but Santana didn't need to see her face to know exactly who it was.

Her head pounded as she furrowed her eyebrows and tried to remember the previous night. Flashes of slamming someone up against the wall with their legs wrapped around her waist and rough kissing flickered in her mind. Nails scratching down her back and teeth nipping at her skin, loud moans and words called out loudly in Italian filled her ears. It was rough, hard and fast.

And it made her feel completely empty.

Santana carefully slipped out of the bed and stood in the middle of the unfamiliar room. She did a quick sweep of the room and found it in disarray, as expected. Clothes were tossed haphazardly across furniture and on the floor. Pants. She needed her pants. She found them balled up under an ottoman. As quickly and quietly as she could, Santana pulled on her clothes, careful not to wake the other girl.

She shrugged on her jacket and reached in her pocket, relieved that her wallet and phone were still in there. She checked the time and ignored the crude texts from the guys knowing exactly who she was with and what she had been doing. She was going to kill them.

Santana stopped at the door and glanced over her shoulder. She felt a pang of guilt just leaving the model naked and alone like that. She hesitated. Isabella seemed like a nice girl. Santana shook her head and turned around, exiting the bedroom and making a beeline towards the front door. She mentally kicked herself for allowing it to happen.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you for all of the kind reviews and messages! To show my appreciation, I am going to post the next three chapters sometime this week, starting today, with the current chapter below. **

* * *

**JUNE 2, 2013 – RUSSIA – BACKSTAGE, PRE SOUNDCHECK **

"Dammit!" She slammed the palm of her hand repeatedly against the side of the foreign coffee maker.

"Easy there, killer," Puck said as he walked into the room. Santana shot him a look. "If you break it that would be considered 'destruction of property'," he warned.

"Fucking coffee maker," Santana mumbled and gave the machine another smack. Across the room, Sam continued to pick away at his acoustic, seemingly oblivious to the commotion.

When Santana moved to deliver another blow, Puck stepped in between her and the machine. "Whoa, what'd this thing ever do to you?"

Santana took a step back from the table and motioned towards her near empty mug. "It only gives me, like, two sips of coffee!"

Puck glanced back at Sam, who looked up from the couch and shrugged. "So the natural solution would be to what?" Puck asked. "Smack the shit out of it?"

"Says the guy who trashed a hotel room refrigerator because his beer wasn't cold enough," she snapped. Santana ran her hand through her hair, frustrated. She turned towards Puck. "Did you give Isabella my number?"

Puck's eyes went wide. He knew that look. "Yeah…"

"Why?" Santana asked, throwing her arms in the air.

Puck glanced at Sam who just shook his head and went back to strumming. He wanted nothing to do with the conversation. "Uh, because she asked me for it?" Puck offered weakly.

Santana tossed her head back and let out a frustrated groan. "There's a reason I didn't give it to her. I don't want her calling me, Puck."

"Well how the hell was I supposed to know that? She was pretty upset that you just bailed on her. And she's so hot. I thought I was helping!"

Santana ran both hands through her hair and looked away. "We slept together," she finally admitted.

"I kind of figured," Puck snorted.

She rounded on him, her eyes narrowing as she did. "How many times have I given _your_ number out to all the random girls that _you've_ slept with?" she said, flinging an accusatory finger at him. Puck glanced down at his shoes and rocked back and forth uncomfortably. Santana watched him for a moment before letting out a long sigh. "Don't you ever get tired of one night stands?"

Puck shook his head and looked up at Santana with a smile. "No," he answered honestly.

It was then that Mike strolled into the room, whistling happily as he made his way over to the coffee maker. The "hello" faded from his lips as he noticed the daggers that Santana was shooting at Puck and the deer-in-the-headlights expression on Puck's face. He picked out his coffee flavor in careful silence.

Undeterred, Santana took a step towards Puck. "You don't want something more?" she persisted.

Puck shook his head. "No, I'm having fun. I'm doing exactly what I want to do." Santana nodded and looked back towards the coffee maker, a defeated look on her face. Puck reached out and gently nudged her shoulder, getting her attention. "But I do get what you mean."

Seizing upon what seemed like a break in the storm, Mike spun around and offered his mug to Santana."Coffee?" he asked with a nervous smile.

Santana sighed but reached for the mug anyway.

* * *

**JULY 4, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY - ROOFTOPS**

"Just make sure you don't overcook my vegan burger," Rachel said, peering over Nick's shoulder as he manned the grill.

"I know, I know," Nick muttered, flipping said burger.

Rachel fanned herself with her hand and glanced at Quinn, who was perched on the arm of a one of the several beach chairs scattered along the roof. "Are you sure we'll be able to see the fireworks from up here?"

"We did last year," Quinn reminded her.

"I know, but the city re-wrote some of its codes - "

Quinn laughed. "Rachel. Relax. We'll see them. And if we don't, our neighbors brought enough sparklers to light up Manhattan for a week. It'll be okay."

Rachel cast a worried glance at the dozen or so neighbors spread out across the roof. She was pretty sure there must be something in the code that prohibited lighting the very tame yet messy "snakes" too, but no one seemed to care too much about that.

Allison chuckled and leaned over to wrap her arm around Quinn's waist. With her other hand she reached for Quinn's hand to interlock their fingers. "Are you ready for your last year in med school?" she asked.

Quinn shifted slightly to face Allison. "I am. And you?"

"Not really," Allison admitted. She squeezed Quinn's hand and put on her best pout. "I'm going to miss seeing you."

Quinn rolled her eyes with a smile and got out of her chair to slide into Allison's lap. "We'll still be in the same hospital," she promised. "Hopefully we can at least have lunch together sometimes."

"And you can still take me up on the spare key to my apartment," Allison said, bringing the back of Quinn's hands up to her lips.

Quinn's smile faltered. "I'm still not ready for that."

Allison's face fell, but she nodded. "Okay," she said, forcing a smile. "No pressure."

Quinn leaned in and kissed Allison briefly on the lips. "I promise I'll still come over." Allison nodded again and Quinn stood. "Do you want something to drink?"

"A water would be great," Allison called out as Quinn walked towards one of the several coolers.

Rachel frowned and watched Quinn walk away.

**REDONDO BEACH, CALIFORNIA**

Santana pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and leaned back on her beach towel, digging her hands deeper into the warm sand. She grinned as she watched Marley and Jacob chase each other through the waves. She couldn't help but laugh when Marley launched herself at Jacob, who hadn't been ready for the catch. The two of them ungracefully splashed backwards into the surf.

"Look how cute they are," Brittany commented from Santana's left as she watched Marley and Jacob scramble to get up.

A loud yell made Santana turn her head further out in the water towards Sam and Puck. The two were doing their best to see who could sling a football farther across the tops of the waves. She wrinkled her nose. "I hope you mean your sister and Jacob, 'cause…"

"Gross," Brittany laughed.

Santana smirked and turned her head towards Brittany, who was leaning against the cooler on her own beach towel. Her new boyfriend Matt was sitting cross-legged between her legs. She watched as Brittany ran her hands through his hair and then mindlessly rubbed his shoulders. "They're almost as cute as you two," Santana said with a smile.

"Yeah, we're adorable," Brittany agreed, rustling Matt's wavy hair. He smiled back at her and squeezed her legs happily.

Santana watched them for a moment or two longer. She took in the love struck grins on their faces as they looked at each other. Though she'd been trying incredibly hard all afternoon, she just couldn't stop the knotted-up feeling in her stomach every time she looked at them. She wanted what they had. She was tired of meaningless flings. She turned back out towards the ocean and tried her best not to think of Quinn.

"Guys, come here! Look at this!" Jacob yelled as he pointed to a horseshoe crab that had washed up to shore. Marley waved for them to hurry.

Matt stood and looked down at Brittany and Santana. "You two coming?"

Brittany ushered him along. "In a few, you go," she said smiling. "I want to talk to Santana for a minute."

He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek and jogged off to the ocean.

"He's great, Britt," Santana said as she watched Matt reach the others.

Brittany looked at Santana hopefully. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

There was a time when the thought of Brittany with someone else would've made Santana jealous. Even after they agreed they were better off as friends, she could never bring herself to think about moving on from Brittany.

It felt strange to give approval to someone that had so clearly become the center of Brittany's world. Someone that was no longer her. She expected the sabotage to come any minute. To pour out of her and tell Brittany all the completely nonsensical reasons she should leave Matt. Why it wouldn't work out. But the words never came. And, interestingly enough, neither did the anticipated feelings of hurt and jealousy. She wondered when exactly that had changed. But whenever that was, the fact was that it had.

"So you met over spilled coffee," Santana

"And surprisingly enough, he's the one that tripped, not me," Brittany reminded her. "And then he offered me his shirt," she said dreamily.

Santana smirked. "Such a gentleman." She met Brittany's eyes. "Are you happy?"

Brittany expression changed. "Yeah, I am." She looked at Santana curiously. "Are _you_ happy? Ms. Platinum," she teased and nudged Santana's leg playfully.

Santana shrugged and picked at the edge of her towel. "Yeah, I guess so."

"If you have to guess, then you're not really happy, San." She scooted closer to her and put her head on Santana's shoulder. "When was the last time you were happy? Like, carefree, all smiles, floating-on-cloud-nine happy?"

Santana turned her head and sighed as Brittany snuggled closer. "I mean, I'm happy-ish. I'm content."

Brittany shook her head and wrapped her arms around Santana's waist. "It's not the same."

Santana rolled her head back and stared up the sky. She snorted in disgust and shook her head. "How much of an asshole am I? The band is doing great, we've finally made it, I've toured the fucking world_ twice,_ and I have money for the first time in… forever. Our album's gone platinum. I'm living the dream!" She rested her cheek on the top of Brittany's head. "I'm… good. I'm thrilled. I'm over the moon even. I'm just not…"

"Happy?" Brittany supplied with a sad smile. "You don't have to explain it to me, Santana. I know you better than anyone, remember?"

"Yeah. You do," Santana agreed and dropped a kiss on top of her friend's head.

Brittany squeezed her tighter. "Whatever it is that makes you happy, you have to fight for it. Don't give up until you have it." She lifted her head off of Santana's shoulder and looked up at her. "Promise me you won't."

Santana nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I promise," she choked out.

Brittany examined her for a moment, searching her face. Santana looked away, unable to hold the gaze of Brittany's piercing and knowing blue eyes looking through her. She looked out towards her friends, who seemed to be having a blast. A minute later, she was up and holding her hand out.

Brittany eyed it suspiciously, knowing Santana was avoiding any more deep conversation. Santana arched and eyebrow and Brittany relented with a sigh. She reached up and took Santana's hand and they joined the others by the shore.

* * *

**JULY 25, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

It sounded an awful lot like _Jingle Bells_. "What are we listening to?" Quinn asked with a confused giggle as she slid into the passenger seat of Allison's car.

"It's Christmas in July!" she explained happily.

Quinn arched an eyebrow as _Santa Claus Is Coming to Town_ played loudly through the car stereo. "Is that what that is?"

"Yes. I think it's cute," Allison admitted as she pulled away from this hospital. "Is it bothering you?"

Quinn laughed and shook her head. "No, it's fine." Allison pulled away from the hospital parking lot and Quinn reached for one of the medical journals in her bag. The ride to Allison's apartment was a good thirty minutes; plenty of time to cram in more studying since doing so once they arrived was fairly implausible.

She had barely cracked open the book when the first Christmas song ended and the next one began. She knew exactly what the new song was within the first few heavily synthesized notes. The bemused smirk she'd worn disappeared almost instantly.

_Santana turned to look at Quinn and she let her eyes trail down her body before meeting her eyes. "I think you look great," she said honestly._

_Quinn blushed and looked away towards the skyline. "That's nice of you to say. Thank you."_

_Santana watched her for another beat as she debated whether or not she wanted to insist, when her song faded into a new one blaring from inside. She looked back towards the ballroom with an incredulous look. "Really? Again?" She asked out loud as she threw her hands up._

_Quinn turned towards the brunette and tilted her head to the side curiously. "You don't like _Last Christmas_?" she asked, disbelievingly._

_Santana smiled and looked down at the cigarette between her fingers. "It's not that I don't like it," she said with a chuckle, "...But when you hear it over and over and over again every single time you're out? The novelty kind of wears off, you know?" Quinn gave her a look. "Okay, I don't like it. It's overplayed and depressing."_

_"I like it." Quinn smiled._

_"It's a sad song," Santana pointed out._

_"It's pretty," Quinn countered._

_"_'Last Christmas_ I gave you my heart but the very next day you gave it away'?" Santana quoted. "It's about a broken heart! He's all trying to get over this girl and tries to make her jealous or whatever but then when he sees her, he realizes he's still in love. But she doesn't love him back," Santana explained bitterly._

_Quinn laughed. "I can see you feel very strongly about this," she smirked._

_Santana looked at Quinn and realized how ridiculous she sounded, getting riled up over a song that held no significant meaning for her. She exhaled and let out a small chuckle. "It's just sad. And overplayed," she mumbled and turned away blushing._

She quickly turned to Allison. "Actually, do you mind turning it off for a little while?"

Allison glanced at her curiously. "Everything alright?"

Quinn had her good days and her bad days. Sometimes her memories of Santana didn't quite hurt as much. She felt like she could still breathe and push aside her sadness. Those days gave her faith that she was moving on and could actually handle letting her go.

But more often than not, there were days like today, where _any_ reminder of her time with Santana caused a pain so deep in her chest that she just _knew_ it was impossible to move on or to let go.

So on days like today she did her best to smile and act as if everything was fine.

"I'd really like to get some reading done. And that song is really sad," Quinn explained. She hadn't expected to hear it, even if it w_as_ Christmas in July.

And just like most of her memories of Santana, it had appeared out of nowhere, triggered by something so innocent and random that it had completely thrown her off balance.

"I kinda like it," Allison admitted. She shrugged indifferently but changed the station anyway.

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, the melody still ringing in her ears. She tried desperately to pull herself from the memory. She exhaled a shaky breath and with a heavy heart she realized, _Last Christmas_ had just become too painful to listen to.

* * *

**AUGUST 9, 2013 – SOUTHBOUND I-90 TOWARDS CLEVELAND – TOUR BUS**

"What the fuck, Puckerman?" Santana flung her controller down and turned to glare at him. "You can't just shoot me in the head the second I respawn!"

"Just did," he boasted. "It's called spawn camping. It's an art."

Santana shoved him and turned back towards the flat screen TV. "You're such an ass."

Sam snorted in agreement as he played on his phone from the other end of the couch.

"Way of the game sweetheart," Puck said with a shrug.

The door to the common area opened. The band turned to see Will slip in. He turned towards the television and then back at Puck and Santana, who had gone right back at it. "Can you guys turn that off? I have something I want to discuss with you."

"In two minutes," Puck said, distracted.

Will sighed and closed his eyes, mentally trying to keep his patience.

Puck threw one of his hands up and looked at Santana disbelievingly. "What the hell was that?"

Santana smirked and dropped her controller in Puck's lap. "I believe, Noah, they call that an RPG."

"Were you just waiting for me so you could do that?" he accused.

Santana reached out and patted him on the cheek. "Way of the game sweetheart. _It's an art_."

Mike looked up from his laptop, arching an eyebrow. "You both realize you're on the same team, right?"

"Children! Can you please focus!" Will shouted. All four of them turned towards their manager. "Thank you," he sighed. "You have been asked to perform at the Rockafeller Tree Lighting this year."

"Awesome," Sam said and glanced back down at his phone.

"Please start thinking about what songs you'd like to sing. Come up with several ideas and then we'll decide from there." He pointed towards the television and then at Puck and Santana. "And no more Call of Duty until you've made me a list with at least five songs on it."

"Black Ops 2," Puck corrected.

Will rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He dropped a notepad and a pen on the table in front of them and pointed. "Write."

"Well then," Mike said once Will had disappeared. "Any ideas?"

Santana reached for the pen and paper. "I've got one," she said and began to write.

* * *

**AUGUST 25, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

"Mind if I turn on the TV?" Rachel asked and immediately turned it on without waiting for an answer. She plopped down on the couch with a sigh and pulled the throw blanket draped off of the back of the couch around her.

Quinn glanced up from her book. "Since when do you watch MTV?"

Rachel turned up the volume as the MTV Video Music Awards started. "Since always. I'm constantly trying to stay in the know with all forms of entertainment current events."

The names of the night's different performers began flashing onscreen. Quinn went to challenge her roommate further when out of the corner of her eye she saw the words "Crossing Arizona" slide across the screen. She turned towards her roommate. "Rach," she sighed.

Rachel lifted her chin slightly but didn't take her eyes off the television. "You're free to go to another room if you'd like."

Quinn narrowed her eyes and closed her book, placing it on the coffee table. "No, I'll watch it with you."

"You know they're in Brooklyn this year," Rachel said casually. "And they're live," she added, sneaking a peek at Quinn from the corners of her eyes.

Quinn shook her head but didn't respond. Despite it being a good day, the knowledge that Santana was within driving distance did in fact cause her stomach to summersault. But she'd be damned if she was going to let Rachel know. Instead, she focused on the television and ignored her roommate stealing glances her way every time Santana was on screen.

The band performed early on, thankfully. And the entire time, Quinn couldn't take her eyes off of Santana. She didn't want to. She looked amazing. A part of her ached at the sight of her, but another part of her felt a strange since of pride. Santana didn't just look fantastic; she sounded amazing. Quinn found herself smiling at how energetic she was on stage. She was amused at how Santana could run around from one end of the stage to another and still belt out every single note. The painful pang of hurt in her stomach was still there, but it paled in comparison to how much she just enjoyed watching her on stage.

When they won the award for Best Rock Video only mere moments later, Quinn smiled at how genuinely happy Santana looked as she and her band mates took the stage. Her smile was just as contagious as Quinn remembered it.

When her speech was over, Quinn glanced at Rachel who was staring at her apprehensively. "I'm fine," Quinn said, rolling her eyes. "Really," she added when Rachel didn't look convinced. "I think I'm finally getting used to this whole 'moving on' thing," she said, reaching for her book from the coffee table.

_It's a good day, _Quinn told herself.

Rachel smiled. "That's great," she said cheerfully. When Quinn went back to her reading, Rachel sighed and looked away. Somehow she had a feeling it wouldn't be long before Quinn unraveled again.

* * *

**A/N: I know some of you are getting antsy - just hang tight. We'll get through it together! **


	11. Chapter 11

**SEPTEMBER 21, 2013 – REDONDO BEACH, CALIFORNIA**

The television played softly in the background, neither girl paying much attention to it. Santana placed their finished dinner plates on the counter inside of her kitchen. She wiped her hands on her yoga pants and entered the living room.

"So now that we've had dinner," Santana started as she flopped back on the couch, "tell me; how are things with Matt?"

"Good," Brittany said, reaching for her beer.

Santana's smile grew. "Are you blushing?" Brittany took a long pull, ignoring the question. "You are! You're blushing!" Santana laughed. "You and your sister, blushing when their men are mentioned in conversation."

Brittany's cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink but she couldn't stop her own smile from spreading across her face. "Shut up."

"It's cute," Santana insisted.

Brittany looked around at all the boxes. Some were half full, some already taped closed. There were different sized boxes still unmade propped flat against the wall. There was packing paper and bubble wrap all over the living room. Brittany frowned and put her drink on the coffee table. "So you're really moving to New York, huh?"

"Yup," Santana said, reaching for her own beer.

Brittany pulled one of her legs up underneath her and faced Santana. "Have you finished all the paperwork for your new place?"

Santana hummed as she took a sip of her beer. "Not yet. They're sending some of it over next week. I'm meeting with the realtor while for the tour. Next month I hope to have all the paperwork signed so that I can move in by November. That's the plan anyway."

Brittany's face fell slightly but she did her best to cover it with a small smile. "I'm going to miss you. I don't like that you'll be so far away."

Santana reached out and placed her hand on Brittany's knee, giving it a firm squeeze. "You can come and visit whenever you're in the area. You already visit Marley out there. You might as well stop by and say hi to me too."

"I know," Brittany said, looking down at Santana's hand. "But I…" She shook her head, frustrated.

Santana tilted her head to the side curiously. "Tell me," she urged gently.

"I just… You've always been there. And I just always thought that maybe one day there might still be a chance for us to…" Brittany shook her head again, letting her thought float in the air, unfinished.

"Britt," Santana scooted closer towards her on the couch and placed her beer on the coffee table. She wrapped an arm around Brittany, pulling her closer so she could rub her back.

There was a time she would have given anything to hear Brittany say what she'd just started to. To know that Brittany thought that maybe someday they would have had a chance. If Brittany had voiced this to her back when they were breaking up, Santana might've sworn to wait for her forever. As long as she thought there might have been a chance, she would have.

But now it just made her sad. It hurt for entirely different reasons. Now it was she who didn't want Brittany to hold onto something that Santana could no longer give. Which was a resolve that only time had allowed her to gain. It was time that helped her learn to let go and accept the way things ended. And now, finally, she was okay with it.

"I love Matt," Brittany sniffled. "But I love you, too. And I don't know to let you go."

"We'll always be best friends. And you'll always be so special to me. I wouldn't trade our time together for anything in the world." Santana pulled back and looked the other girl in the eyes. "But you and I, we aren't meant to be together like that."

Brittany nodded and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I know. I just wish it didn't hurt so much."

"Wait one sec." Santana stood and disappeared into her bedroom. When she emerged she handed Brittany the old worn-out Patriot's t- shirt. Brittany took it, confused. "I wore this a lot after we broke up. It was a piece of you with me. I always thought of it as ours, you know? So now it's your turn to take care of it." Brittany looked down at the shirt in her hands. "But you better promise to take good care of it."

Brittany let out a small laugh and nodded. "I promise." She stood from the couch and wrapped her arms around Santana, holding her tightly.

"We'll be okay," Santana promised and kissed the side of her head. She rubbed her hands up and down her back as she held her. "I promise."

* * *

**OCTOBER 26, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY - HAMMERSTEIN BALLROOM**

People were squeezed together on the floor of the venue, shoulder to shoulder and happily talking. The upper balcony seating was quickly beginning to fill up.

They would have been at their seats by now if they hadn't been sidetracked by Nick, who insisted on buying a band t-shirt at the merchandise booth. A t-shirt he was now embarrassing them all by wearing. Then they had to stop for beers. The line had taken forever to get through. Now, as they walked through the breezeway into the balcony, it wouldn't be too long before the opening act took the stage.

Quinn blindly followed Allison as she led them down a row in the front of the first level balcony, Rachel and Nick just behind them. Quinn apologized to the few people they made stand up from their seats to let them through.

"Are you okay?" Rachel whispered, leaning into Quinn, her hand on her back.

"_You're_ not going to be okay if you keep asking me that," Quinn hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm fine."

Allison stopped and looked down at the number on the side of the chair and then back at her ticket stub. She turned around with an embarrassed smile. "Well I guess these are it. Sorry they're not closer," she apologized. "At least they're in the front row of the balcony," she added hopefully.

Quinn smiled and reached out to run her hand down Allison's arm. "They're great." She glanced at the stage and eyed it skeptically. If they were any closer, she'd have to admit to Rachel that she was _not_, in fact, okay.

"These seats are awesome!" Nick shouted as he came in behind the group holding two large beers.

Quinn placed her bag on the ground in front of her and turned back towards the stage. A large black curtain stretched across the entire stage, blocking the view of the set-up behind it. She took a deep breath and stared ahead. It wouldn't be too long before Santana would be on that stage and in the same room with her. The butterflies in her stomach were going crazy.

"I would've gotten tickets for the floor, but it's standing room only. I didn't think anyone would want to fight the crowds just to be up that close," Allison explained as she took her seat.

"This is perfect!" Nick continued looking around the large venue. "I love sitting a section back! We're above the floor and we can see the entire stage," he said in awe.

Rachel took her seat next to Quinn. "And we don't have to worry about sweaty over-enthused concert goers bumping into us," she pointed out.

Quinn continued to stare at the stage while_ In the Air Tonight_ played loudly in the venue as people continued to trickle in. Inwardly, she wished for things to speed up. That the curtain would just drop for the opening act to come out and get their set over with. She'd never heard of them before, which wasn't saying much on account of the fact that Quinn really hadn't heard much of anybody new. But her growing anxiety wasn't so much a product of wanting to get to the main act; it was more so wondering how she'd handle it when Crossing Arizona _did_ finally come out.

The sudden touch against the small of her back made her jump. She looked down at Allison, who gazed up at her, worried. "Are you okay?"

Quinn was so tired of hearing that question. But Allison's hand rubbing small circles on her lower back reminded her that she was not Rachel, and that her question came from another type of concern entirely. She smiled reassuringly at her and nodded. "I'm fine," she said and sat down. She leaned in and lightly kissed her on the lips. "Thank you again for the tickets."

Allison beamed at her. "You're welcome."

Much to Quinn's surprise, the opening act had been pretty spectacular, leaving the crowd with an energized excitement as they waited for Crossing Arizona to take the stage. But that energy left her just as quickly, making way for the old familiar feelings of anxiety.

Quinn gratefully chugged down the beer Rachel shoved in front of her face and winced as she took a deep breath, handing the empty cup back to her. Allison arched an eyebrow, but Quinn quickly flashed her another "I'm okay" smile.

The thirty minute intermission felt, to her, like an eternity.

Then the lights shut off. The entire venue erupted with screams as the house music was replaced with a loud, chugging guitar riff.

This was it.

Flashes of light from peoples camera's created just enough flickering light that movement could be seen on the stage. Quinn's eyes desperately tried to make sense between strobes. A second later, a spotlight cut through the dim and she had to squint to adjust. Two more spots followed the first and now she could see the guitar player, the bouncing bass player and the mohawked drummer.

Quinn's heart raced.

The three of them kept up a quick-tempoed instrumental, nodding their heads along to the rhythm of the back beat the drummer was laying down. The bass player was running all along the front of the stage, teasing the crowd up as the three musicians built up a huge crescendo. And then, with a snap of the snare drum, they stopped altogether. The crowd filled the silence with a roar of a cheer until a loud, "New York City!" came from the speakers and overrode them.

Santana appeared center stage, seemingly out of nowhere. The crowd went nuts. There she was, grinning as she threw up her hands, soaking in the energy of the crowd as the opening song began.

Finally hearing her voice, _finally_ seeing her again, Quinn unraveled.

To say the show was entertaining would be an understatement. It was fantastic. The band was incredibly tight and their sound was amazing to hear live. Quinn had never heard a crowd this loud before. Yet, despite all that, Quinn's chest ached deeply.

It took all of her strength not to let her emotions show; though it was obvious that Rachel was blatantly looking for any sign of them on her face. Quinn had been keenly aware of Rachel staring more at her than the stage the entire show. But Quinn's eyes never left Santana.

She stared at the enormous screen behind the band that cut between close-ups of each of the members. But Quinn's eyes always searched for Santana. She drank in the sight of the singer's dark eyes and smeared black eyeliner. The beads of sweat that rolled down the sides of her face as she ran around the stage. Santana was all smiles. It was immediately obvious that she was doing what she loved to do. Her energy was infectious. The crowd hadn't stopped jumping with her since the music had started.

She never seemed to run out of energy, stopping only to extend her mic out towards the audience, encouraging them to sing with her. Which, of course, they did. Loudly.

In between songs she talked to the crowd, making quick jokes and telling a few young fans in the front row that she loved their homemade signs. She effortlessly and convincingly made the entire audience feel like they were appreciated and loved. Quinn smiled; Santana was a master at all this. Santana had Quinn and the rest of the audience hanging on her every word.

And just like the thousands of fans around her, Quinn found herself completely entranced.

Quinn held it together for the most part; smiling when the crowd cheered, absorbing every note Santana sang. She found herself nodding along to the rhythm without even being aware she was doing it. Despite the constant pain in her chest at being in the same room with Santana, Quinn thought she was handling her anxiety pretty well.

That was until late in the show when the lights dimmed and the rest of the band left the stage.

A spotlight highlighted Santana sitting at a piano. She adjusted the mic closer to her mouth and glanced out at the crowd. She wiped the sweat off of her brow and smiled.

Quinn had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"So, ah, this next song was a last minute addition to the new album. We wrote this one during the last couple of days in the studio. We've gotten such a huge response from it that we thought we'd add it in the set." The audience cheered and Santana nodded and smiled against the mic. "I agree! It's one of my favorites, too. But I'd like to play it for you guys the way that it was written, the way it was meant to be played; stripped down and exposed."

Quinn could feel her chest tighten as she stared at Santana's face in the large screen. Santana's smile seemed to change in front of her, though she wondered if anyone else noticed. It was different. _Sad_, Quinn thought. She felt her breath catch in her throat as Santana brought her fingers up to the piano keys.

"It's called, 'It's A Shame You're A Dream."

The soft melody started and Quinn felt as if she were falling. As if this wasn't real, that it couldn't be happening. Her breath caught in her throat and she did her best not to reach behind her to hold onto her chair.

Quinn felt a strong hand take hers and squeeze it tightly. She knew it was Rachel without even looking.

Santana leaned into the mic, her lips brushing against the metal. "I can still feel your kiss against my skin/ As I push away the pain/ Now just the memory of your fingertips/ Is all that remains…"

Quinn squeezed Rachel's hand as the song started. She had heard it a thousand times, read the lyrics, memorized it. But that was nothing compared to watching Santana as she sang it.

Santana's eyes closed throughout the song, alternating from watching her hands finger the keys, to staring straight ahead. Not once did she turn her head towards the audience. It was almost as if she was performing the song alone and not surrounded by a thousand adoring fans. Her voice was scratchy from being on tour for months on end, but it did nothing to fade the sadness the song was meant to convey.

Quinn wondered why she put it in the set and why she would perform it the way she was. But the crowd seemed to understand, their shouts and screams halting to an occasional whistle or cheer. And they were still, no one jumping or bumping into one another. They stood and watched, respectfully listening as Santana bared her soul.

And watching her do so caused all of Quinn's repressed feelings to boil to the surface. Somewhere between the first verse and the last chorus, Quinn's anxiety got the better of her.

"And if I can never find you/ Even if you are just what you seemed/ I promise I'll never let you go/ But it's a shame that you're a dream," Santana drew out the last line, her lips pressed against the mic and her eyes closed. Quinn knew she was going to lose it.

Rachel must've been watching her closely because she chose that exact moment to lean across her and shout to Allison. "Excuse us; we have to go to the bathroom." She pulled Quinn across the row, apologizing to the fans they slipped in front of to get to the walkway. They barely noticed; they were too busy screaming and applauding as the song ended.

"Can you get me another beer?" Nick called out after them, holding up his almost empty plastic cup. Rachel nodded and tugged Quinn through the breezeway and towards the restrooms.

Quinn walked over towards the far sink and leaned forward against the counter. Rachel stood next to her and waited until the couple of girls washing their hands exited before turning towards her. "Are you okay?"

Quinn bowed her head and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I was wrong. I can't do this. I can't."

Rachel closed her eyes, mentally kicking herself. "It was the song," she said knowingly. "I'm sorry; I should've looked up the setlist -"

Quinn shook her head. "It's not just that. It's everything. Seeing her here, like this… she's real. She's so real."

Rachel reached out and gently placed her hand on Quinn's arm. "Of course she's real, Quinn," she sighed. "She's always been real. You've been trying so hard to convince yourself that she wasn't and trying to push away all that had happened, that you never really dealt with it head on."

Quinn lifted her head and turned towards Rachel, tears slowly falling down her cheeks. "Rachel, what did I do?" Rachel stepped closer to Quinn, sympathy on her face. "_How_ do I deal with this and move on? Please tell me because I have no idea."

Rachel reached behind Quinn for a paper towel and turned on the faucet. She let the cool water soak the paper and folded it, reaching out to dab at Quinn's face, wiping away her tears. "It takes time. You can't force it," she said sadly. Quinn took the paper towel from her gratefully and dabbed at the rest on her own. She took several deep breaths and mentally told herself to calm down. "Better?" Rachel asked when Quinn's breathing appeared to return to normal.

Quinn nodded and threw the paper towel away. "I'm okay."

"We can leave if you want. I can go tell them I have food poisoning and we can leave right now," Rachel insisted.

Quinn shook her head. "No, I want to go back."

"Are you sure?" When Quinn nodded, Rachel pulled her in for a tight hug. "I'm going to go get Nick a beer and you some water and then we'll go back in." She pulled back to look at the other girl. "Alright?" Quinn nodded again. Rachel squeezed her arms and slipped out of the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

Quinn stared at herself in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to clean herself up. She could faintly hear the band's next song. They sounded faraway, underwater and muggy. But she recognized the melody. And she knew the concert had to be coming near an end.

She took another deep breath and reminded herself to be calm. Yet, every time she blinked she could see Santana sitting at that piano, singing the song that Quinn herself had titled. She exhaled shakily

Quinn thought back to New Year's, to the first time she saw her, sitting at the bar, hunched over her drink, a frown on her face. Back then, Quinn had no idea who she was. No idea that Santana was famous and who could make thousands of people sing or move on command. There was no rock star status there. Not to Quinn. And yet, that first time she had seen her, Quinn was still hopelessly drawn to her. Compelled to push through that crowded New Year's party to just to be near her, to try and make her smile.

Then there was everything that came after. The way Santana's brown eyes looked into hers. The way Santana had kissed her. The way her skin felt under Quinn's fingertips... Quinn closed her eyes tightly, lost in those familiar moments. She swore she could smell Santana's perfume, so strongly that it was as if she was standing there next to her.

And in that instant, she knew how wrong she had been.

Quinn opened her eyes and found herself alone at the bathroom sink. The anxiety fell away to nothing but the knowledge that she couldn't move on from Santana. Despite how hard she'd tried, there was no replacing her. She was simply a part of her that lived inside.

_How could I have run out on her_, Quinn wondered, not for the first time. But before now, she had somehow found a way to shrug it off and keep moving. Like it was something she'd just have to get past. But now, seeing her again so close she had truly realized what she had left behind in that hotel room.

And in that moment, Quinn hated herself for running.


	12. Chapter 12

**NOVEMBER 9, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY – ALLISON'S APARTMENT**

Allison handed Quinn the last of the dishes to dry. She reached for the cloth hanging on the stove handle nearby to wipe her wet hands and leaned against the counter. "So I was thinking; maybe we could go away next weekend before you leave for Thanksgiving," Allison said hopefully. Quinn carefully placed the plate back in the cabinet and looked down at the counter with a frown. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet all day."

Quinn crossed her arms and turned towards Allison, avoiding eye contact. She rested her hip against the side of the counter. "Allison…"

Allison exhaled loudly. "Oh, wow. This is it, isn't it?" Quinn slowly looked up to meet Allison's fearful gaze. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

Quinn felt her stomach drop. She licked her lips and swallowed roughly. "Allison, you are such an amazing person…"

"Oh my God, you are." Quinn reached out to take her hand, but Allison stepped back just out of her reach. "Please don't," she said quietly. "You don't have to do all that preface bullshit. Just, tell me why?"

"Should we go sit down?" Quinn asked.

Allison crossed her arms tightly across her chest and shook her head. "No. Just tell me."

Quinn took a deep breath and tried to remember the words she'd practiced over and over again. She lifted her head and looked Allison in the eyes. She owed her at least that much. "It's not fair to either of us being in this relationship. I care for you _so_ much. More than you know. But I don't… I can't give you what you need."

Allison shook her head, refusing to believe it. "How do you even know that? How could possibly know what I need?"

"Because I know you." Quinn countered. She dropped her arms to her side and ran a shaky hand through her hair. "I wanted so badly for this to work out."

"You wanted so badly for this work out?" Allison repeated in disbelief. "Really? Why? So you could say you were in a relationship? So you could have someone to go home to? To snuggle up to at night?"

Quinn winced. "That's not fair…"

"Fair?" Her voice grew louder with every word she spoke, the pain and frustration evident. "How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you _known_ you were going to break up with me?"

Quinn looked away again and turned the question over in her head, carefully considering how truthful she wanted to be. At last, she gritted her teeth and looked back up. Allison deserved the truth, no matter how much Quinn hated herself for having to tell it. "Since the concert. Maybe even before," she answered in a whisper.

Allison was quiet for what felt like an eternity to Quinn. "Did you ever even really like me?" Allison asked finally, her voice so vulnerable, so sad, that it broke Quinn's heart.

She looked up and took a deep breath, steadying herself at the sight of Allison's tear-filled eyes. "Yes I did. And I do. I like you a lot,"

"You just don't love me," Allison supplied quietly. Quinn shook her head and looked away, her own eyes glistening with tears. "Is there someone else?" Quinn squeezed her eyes shut. "Please just tell me," she begged.

"There's the memory of someone else," Quinn confessed softly. "I thought I was ready to move on. But I'm not."

"The _memory?_ And you're telling me this _now? _Seven months later?" She let out a small snort and shook her head. A moment later she stormed past a shocked Quinn, leaving her behind in the kitchen where minutes earlier the two had been washing dishes together.

Quinn stood there frozen, unable to follow. What could she say to stop her? Allison was right; she should've been honest from the beginning. Slowly, she turned and went into the living room to find her. Allison was looking through the glass door, into the dark, her back to Quinn.

"I loved you," Allison admitted sadly. She turned and lifted her eyes to meet Quinn's, the tears streaming down her face. "I _still_ love you. But I should never have had to compete against someone else."

Quinn nodded, the lump in her throat growing. Her heart beat rapidly and entire chest ached. "I never, _ever_ meant to hurt you like this."

Allison threw her hands in the air, defeated. "What did you think was going to happen, Quinn?"

"I don't know," she answered lamely. "I had hoped that these feelings I had would go away. That one day I'd have them for you."

Allison narrowed her eyes. "And you never _once_ thought that maybe you should've mentioned this before things got serious?"

"No, I thought about it a lot actually," Quinn admitted.

"You were selfish." Quinn shut her eyes; Allison's words slicing through her painfully. "That was so unbelievably shitty, Quinn. To lead me on like that. For seven months! You knew for seven fucking months!"

"I know," Quinn choked out. "And I'm so sorry."

"Sorry doesn't really change anything does it?" Quinn opened her eyes and expected to see Allison shooting daggers in her direction. Daggers she would've been able to handle. Instead, she just saw a woman in pain. Pain that she had caused. "Please just go," Allison whispered. "I can't be around you right now. I don't know if I can ever be around you again. It hurts too much."

"I really do care about you." Her voice was pleading, begging Allison to understand that.

"Yeah, well, that was never really good enough was it?" Allison laughed humorously. Quinn winced. It was like a punch to gut. She nodded and turned towards the door, stopping only to pick up her purse. "I never even had a real chance with you, did I?" Allison asked as Quinn opened the apartment door.

Quinn stilled, but didn't turn around. "I'm sorry," she whispered before slowly closing the door behind her.

* * *

**NOVEMBER 13, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY – BATTERY PARK**

"I love it!" Marley exclaimed as she twirled around the large open space. "Can I move in?"

Santana laughed and draped herself lazily across her new couch. "I don't know if Jacob would be too happy about that."

"It's gorgeous," Marley continued as she walked in and out of the rooms on her own.

"It's more room than I needed but it was too good to pass up on," Santana said and then groaned at the sight of all the clutter around her. She had been unpacking boxes all day and she was exhausted. At least her furniture was moved in and where it needed to be. She was grateful for that.

"Look at the view!" Marley practically squealed. She spun around and ran over to the couch, plopping down next to Santana. "So now that you're officially a New York resident, what's first on your to do list?"

Santana closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. "Order some pizza and go to sleep early."

"Wow, party animal," Marley teased. Santana cracked one of her eyes open and glared at her. "Okay," Marley laughed and lifted Santana's legs up to put rest them back down on her lap. "But when you've recovered from your tour and you're all settled in, I reserve the right to take you for a night on the town."

"Careful, Marley," Santana warned with a small smile. "Last time you took me out we were all over the tabloids. Sure you can handle that again?"

Marley reached out and smacked Santana roughly on the stomach. Santana grunted. "This time it's different. This time I'm engaged," she said happily as she gazed down at the ring on her finger. "The wedding isn't until June. That gives you seven months to find a date!"

Santana rubbed her stomach and groaned once more.

* * *

**NOVEMBER 16, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

"I got it!" Rachel called out happily as she pushed open the door to their apartment. "I officially got the part! I join the new cast in January… Why is it so dark in here?" She flipped on the lights to the apartment and closed the door behind her. "Quinn? Are you sitting in the dark?"

Rachel put her purse and keys on the table beside the door and walked towards their leather recliner which, she discovered, had been dragged over closer to their window. "Quinn?" She stepped up to the chair and peered around the chair back, which is where she found her.

She was curled up in a tight little ball, looking blankly out into the darkened city skyline. A fleece blanket was draped across her. It took her a minute to notice Rachel standing there. When she looked up, Rachel saw the puffy, pink eyes, red nose and tear stained cheeks and felt her heart sink. She glanced down the cell phone in Quinn's hand, where she saw a picture of Quinn and Santana from New Year's. "Oh honey…," Rachel started, sitting down at once on the arm of the chair. She pulled Quinn in for a bear hug.

The contact sent a shockwave of tears through Quinn again. "It's my own fault. It's my fault I'm not happy." She buried her face against Rachel's shoulder and just let go. "All I seem to care about is school and studying. And whenever something good comes into my life, I screw it up. I find excuses and I just push people away. I get scared and I run. I did it high school, I did it in college, I did it with Santana and Allison…" She pulled her face away and looked up at Rachel seriously. "What's wrong with me?"

Rachel settled into the chair next to her. "Nothing is wrong with you, honey. You're just protecting yourself."

"Protecting myself from what?"

"Getting your heart broken," she said and pulled some of Quinn's blanket over her lap. "We all do it. You just tend to… do it more consistently than most people."

Quinn rested her head against Rachel's shoulder again. "I never should've let things get so far with Allison. I really hurt her, Rachel."

Rachel leaned her head against Quinn's. "I know. And it probably wasn't a good idea moving on with someone when you still had feelings for someone else."

"I'm so selfish," Quinn said, disgusted with herself. "Why didn't you slap some sense into me?"

"I tried! You never wanted to talk about it." Quinn fell silent. Rachel hesitated only slightly before asking, "Do you still love her?"

Quinn sighed heavily. "I never loved her. Not the way she loved me. I should've broken it off the moment I realized I would never feel the same. But I kept hoping that one day - "

"No, I don't mean Allison," Rachel cut her off. She waited until Quinn lifted her eyes to meet her own. "I meant Santana."

Quinn tensed and said nothing at first. Rachel waited her out, gently stroking her hair while she did. "I really am such a fool," Quinn began quietly. "Giving up one perfectly good relationship because I think I could be in love with…." She looked at the phone in her hand and down at the picture. "What if she's nothing like I hope she is? What if I built her up to be this perfect woman and in reality she's nothing at all like I expect her to be?" She turned off her phone screen. "Wouldn't it be better to hold on to the memory of her instead?"

Rachel opened her mouth to respond, but Quinn shook her head and frowned, pushing the blanket off of her. "I'm tired," she said sadly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Rachel watched as Quinn pulled the blanket around her shoulders and took it with her into her room, softly closing the door behind her.

Rachel chewed on her bottom lip and stared at the closed bedroom door, wrestling with a thought. It didn't take her long to make her mind up. She quickly stood up and rushed to her bedroom, where she grabbed her stationary box. She brought it back into the main room, set it down on the coffee table and withdrew her scented stationary and lucky pen.

Rachel glanced at Quinn's closed door one more time before turning back to the blank page in front of her. Confidently, she began to write.

* * *

**NOVEMBER 24, 2013 – LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA – AMERICAN MUSIC AWARDS**

"I am so glad we aren't performing," Puck muttered as he pressed his face against the window to see where they were.

"Agreed," Mike nodded as Tina straightened his tie.

"Well don't relax too much. We still have rehearsals for the Christmas Tree lighting," Will reminded them as he stared down at his phone.

Puck rolled his eyes. "Don't be a buzz kill."

"Wait a minute, you're saying what?" Santana plugged her ear and pressed her phone tighter against her face. "Are you serious? I already bought my tickets!" Sam turned his head curiously to look at her. "No I'll take care of it. You guys just have fun."

"Remember to look happy," Will instructed.

"We _are_ happy," Mike said. Tina yanked him back around to face her so she could finish with his tie.

"You're more than likely to win a few awards tonight, so I hope you prepared something nice to say," said Will.

"That's Santana's problem," Puck snorted as he went back to looking out the window.

"Mike, seriously, hold still," Tina said impatiently. She glanced back at the window behind them and shook her head. "We're almost there and you decide _now_ you want to wear the tie."

"Sam said it brings out my eyes," Mike said sheepishly. Tina shot Sam a look.

Santana glanced out the window when she felt the limousine come to a slow crawl. "I gotta go; we're pulling up to the red carpet," Santana sighed. "Ma! I have to go! I'll call you later. Love you."

"What was that all about?" Sam asked, slipping on his leather jacket.

Santana slipped her phone in her purse and bent down to adjust her blood red pumps. "My parents are going on a cruise for Christmas and decided to tell me now."

"Ouch," Sam said.

"Yeah, no kidding. Especially since I had already gotten plane tickets," she grumbled.

"So, what does that mean?" Sam asked.

Santana sighed. "It means it looks like I'll be spending Christmas alone."

"You can come spend it in California with me and mine," Sam offered, eliciting a smile. "Or! I can come spend it with you in New York!"

"Sam, your parents would kill you," Santana reminded him. He shrugged. "Maybe I'll just go visit my brother in Connecticut."

The door to the limousine opened from the outside. Will slipped his phone in his jacket pocket and clapped his hands together to get the bands attention. "Okay, we're here. Everybody smile, the cameras are always on!"

* * *

**DECEMBER 4, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY **

The sound of applause drew Quinn's attention away from her book and back to the television. She had been both anticipating and dreading the return from the commercial break. It meant Crossing Arizona was about to perform at the Rockefeller Christmas Tree Lighting. Despite some incredibly mixed feelings, she had planned for this. She was determined to watch.

Rachel had asked if she wanted to actually _attend_ the lighting, but Quinn knew her heart couldn't handle seeing her_ in person_ again so soon. The last time had been a disaster that she wasn't keen on repeating again.

Before she had more time to process, the television cut away from the tree to the stage. The camera focused in on Sam, strumming slow tempo chords on a starburst painted acoustic. The camera panned slowly to the right and then there she was. Quinn's chest began to ache just looking at her standing there behind her microphone stand. She was wearing a hoodie underneath of her leather jacket with a grey scarf, matching grey knit cap and fingerless gloves.

Quinn couldn't take her eyes off of her as she stepped up to the microphone and pressed her lips against the metal screen. "Happy Christmas," she whispered. As soon as she'd said the words, the band jumped right into the song.

Quinn's stomach dropped. There was no way… Santana _hated _that song. Crossing Arizona was really covering"Last Christmas"?

Rachel glanced at Quinn and reached for the remote. "Do you want me to turn it off?"

Quinn clenched her teeth and shook her head. "No," she said as she watched Santana begin to sing. "No, please leave it on."

Rachel nodded and sat back on the couch.

Quinn sat perfectly still through the entire performance, still completely surprised at the cover. Maybe they had been asked to sing it. Maybe Santana hadn't been able to veto it.

Or maybe… Maybe Santana had picked this song on purpose. For her.

As quickly as the absurdly presumptuous thought entered her mind she had pushed it away, doing her absolute best not to think like that. Getting her hopes up was the last thing she wanted to do.

When the song was over and they had cut away from the band, Rachel leaned forward to mute the television and hesitantly look at Quinn. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Why do I still feel like this?" Quinn asked in a small, sad voice. "Why can't I just let it all go?"

Rachel scooted closer on the couch. "Because it was important to you. And you still care about her. One of the worst pains you can ever go through is letting someone go who you still deeply care about."

"I don't want to care about her if she doesn't care about me," Quinn said, her lower lip quivering as she tried her best to keep from crying.

"Honey, how do you know she doesn't?" Rachel countered. She put her arm around the other girl and pulled her in. "From what I know, and from it looks like to me, she might still be just as crazy about you. She just doesn't know how to tell you."

Quinn closed her eyes, losing the fight with her tears. "It just hurts. I want to let her go but I don't know how."

Rachel leaned in a kissed the side of Quinn's head. "I know. And it will be okay." She glanced at the muted TV. "It's going to be okay," she repeated, trying to convince them both.

* * *

**DECEMBER 13, 2013 – LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA – SAM'S APARTMENT**

"Before you go," he started turning towards Santana with a smile. "I thought we could all read a little fan mail," Sam suggested. He pulled a large wicker basket around in front of him. It was overflowing with stamped, hand-written envelopes. "The studio dropped it off yesterday. Thought maybe we could read through some of them like old times."

"I'm moving Sam, not leaving the band," Santana laughed.

"I think it's a most excellent idea," Puck said, putting down his beer.

Santana crossed her legs from where she was on the floor. When the rest of her band mates had settled in, Sam flipped the basket over, dumping the pile of letters in between them. "Dig in!" he said.

They tore through envelopes and packages, reading some aloud and others, the more personal ones, to themselves. They took the time to appreciate every one of them. After an hour or so; after they had swapped and read aloud their favorites, they finally managed to whittle down the pile to just a few last letters.

Santana reached for another one, her lips curling into a smile at the way the pink envelope was decorated. She glanced at the name in the left hand corner and at the address. She cocked her head curiously to the side and turned the envelope over to carefully rip into it. She pulled out the letter written in perfect penmanship. Amused, she began to read.

_Dear Santana,_

_My name is Rachel Berry. You may not remember me but we met briefly almost a year ago at a New Year's Eve party in New York City..._

Her heart stopped.

"Holy shit," she swore as she realized what she was actually reading. She tore through the rest of the note and then read the whole thing again just to be sure she hadn't missed anything.

All three men glanced up from their own adoring fan letters to look at her. "What is it?" Sam asked.

Santana swallowed but didn't look up from the note, instead choosing to read it a third time.

Sam exchanged looks with Puck and Mike before crawling over towards Santana and peering over her shoulder at the letter in her now shaking hands. It took him a second read-through, but then he finally got it. He looked up at Santana with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Dude," he said simply.

Santana glanced back down at the letter in her hand before launching to her feet and rushing to Sam's computer.

* * *

**DECEMBER 19, 2013 – NEW YORK CITY**

"All packed?" Rachel asked from her bed.

"Just about. I'll finish Saturday morning." Quinn sat on the edge of Rachel's bed and looked at her worriedly. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"Quinn, I'll be _fine_. I'm going to Nick's for the holidays and that will be…" Rachel trailed off. Finally she let out a whine and reached out, covering her face with one of her pillows. "His mother hates me," she groaned into the pillow.

"She doesn't _hate_ you," Quinn objected, reaching out and taking the pillow from Rachel's face.

Rachel shot her a look. "She refers to me as 'the little Jewish girl who prances around Broadway'." Quinn winced in sympathy. "What about you? Are _you _going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Quinn said with a nod. "Frannie will be there and I'll get to see my nephew. It'll be nice." She reached out and took one of Rachel's hands in her own. "I'm sorry I'm missing your last show."

Rachel brushed the apology aside. "Don't be. I dragged you to enough of them this past year. You've more than made up for it. Besides," she said with a smile, "I've moved on to a bigger and better Broadway experience."

"And I promise I'll be there for the premiere," Quinn said.

"You'd better." They both smiled.

Quinn sighed. "I don't know how long I'm going to be at the library. I want to get in as much studying time as I can before my flight. My mother still doesn't understand I have the USLME's on the 30th. I'm gonna have to try and find time to study while I'm there. Although I'm not sure _how_ that's going to happen." She turned to look at Rachel apologetically. "I'll try to make it to your after party but I can't promise anything."

Rachel nodded sadly. But she understood. Quinn had her own life. It would be unrealistic to expect her to tailor her schedule to Rachel's own. "Then we'll say our farewell's now," she said as she pulled Quinn in for a hug.

* * *

**DECEMBER 21, 2013 – BROADWAY – NYC**

Santana looked around the lobby, pulling at the zipper of her leather jacket to free herself. "I don't see her, do you see her?"

Sam shook his head. "I see blondes but I'm not really sure who I'm looking for. I'm not the one who spent an entire night naked with her remember?"

Santana reached in her back pocket and pulled out her phone, idly scrolling for the pictures he had sent her almost a year ago. Once she had found them, she tossed her phone to Sam.

"All I see is you sucking on her face," he commented, staring down at the phone. Santana sighed and flipped to the next picture, her eyes still scanning the ever growing crowd. "Oh yeah, now I remember," he said with a smile.

Santana glared at him as she snatched her phone out of his hands and walked deeper into the lobby. "It's almost time for this thing to start."

"Maybe she's already inside?" Sam wondered aloud. A couple dressed to the nine's walked by them and made Sam take stock of the jeans and sweatshirts that he and Santana were wearing. "I don't think we dressed well enough for this place."

Santana glanced at her watch and then around the lobby again, ignoring his comment. "You go inside and look for her. Text me if you see her. I'm going to wait out here a little longer."

"Santana, look, if she's not here…" He stopped when he noticed the expression on her face. "Okay, I'm on it. See you in there."

When Sam walked away, Santana began to prowl the lobby again. She Santana wiped her palms on her jeans and untangled the scarf around her neck, as she slowly walked around the lobby, hopefully scanning the faces of everyone she passed. Her heart pounded beneath her chest at every flash of blonde hair that caught her eye.

The lights in the lobby flashed, signaling the start of the show. Santana swore under her breath and followed the crowd into the darkened theater. She asked an usher for some directions, but quickly realized how unnecessary that was when she saw Sam frantically wave at her from their seats.

"So?" she asked hopefully when she had picked her way through to him. Sam shook his head. Santana desperately looked around the sold out crowd until the lights completely dimmed. She let out a deep sigh and pulled off her coat, sinking into her chair with a heavy heart as the show started.

**FAREWELL AFTER PARTY**

"We're really sad to see you go," he said, holding onto Rachel's forearms tightly. "But you're a star, Rachel Berry."

"Thank you, Julian. I will always be truly grateful for the opportunity to perform in your show," Rachel said genuinely. He leaned in to kiss her on both cheeks before leaving Rachel semi-alone on the rooftop.

"Quinn was right. You really are talented."

Rachel spun to face the new voice. Her eyes went wide when she saw who was walking towards her.

"Santana." Rachel froze. "You're here. You got my letter," she said, awestruck. She hadn't been convinced it would work. Even _with_ her lucky stationary.

Santana shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. "Well it's kind of hard to miss a neon pink envelope covered in gold stars with matching scented stationary."

"It was not _neon_, it was _rose_," Rachel said, positively offended. Her expression softened and she took several steps towards Santana. "Quinn's not here," she admitted sadly.

Santana's smile faded instantly. "Oh. Wow. Well that kind of… sucks. Although, when I didn't see her anywhere at your show I kind of assumed the worst." She hesitated slightly, unsure if she wanted the answer to her next question. "Did she know I was coming?"

Rachel laughed. "Santana, _I _didn't even know you were coming." Santana nodded, semi relieved that Quinn hadn't known. "I would've written you sooner, but she insisted I leave it alone," Rachel continued. "I wasn't sure what else to do."

"So your letter said," Santana smiled. She glanced up at Rachel curiously. "So she has no idea that you wrote to me either then."

Rachel shook her head. "No. I didn't want to get her hopes up in case you didn't show or in case you never received my letter. You never know with fan mail these days." She reached for her phone inside of her coat pocket. "I can call her -"

"No." Santana held out her hand and shook her head. "No, don't call her."

Rachel eyed her curiously but slipped her phone back inside of her pocket. "So," she said, shifting her weight from side to side. "What made you decide to come?"

"I almost gave up," Santana sighed and walked over to the railing. She reached out and placed her hands on top of the cold metal and looked down at the street, watching the cars slowly inch through traffic. "I tried looking for her, you know. After she left."

Rachel's jaw tightened as she thought back at how distraught her friend had been for the past year. "Really? You're a _celebrity_, Santana. You have connections. How hard did you really look?"

Santana frowned. "I spent the past year on the road. I've been living in tour buses and hotel rooms. I didn't even know what city I was in half of the time. After a while they all start to look the same." She took a deep breath. "Despite all that, all I could think about was New Years Eve; sitting at that bar, wishing I was back in my apartment in LA on my couch," she chuckled. "I was seriously thinking about going back to my hotel room when all of a sudden this… amazingly beautiful and _stunning _girl comes up and sits down right next to me. There was just something... different about her, you know?"

Rachel chewed the inside of her cheek. She wasn't sure whether to be angry at Santana or feel sorry for her. She settled for a little bit of both.

"One night," Santana continued sadly. "I had her for _one_ night and then I lost her." Santana looked over at Rachel. "I looked in every medical school's student directory in New York City. And since I have no idea what her last name is, I stalked all of them. Every single Quinn. Like, I literally stalked them. You should see some of the emails I got." Rachel's mouth opened to say something, anything, but nothing came to her. "Not one of them was her," Santana pointed out with a sad smile. "I tried Facebook. Nothing. And don't even get me started about Twitter."

"You could've left her a message somewhere. Mentioned her in an article or an interview or _something_," Rachel argued.

Santana laughed. "I wrote her a song! What else was I supposed to do? Give out my number to the world and beg for her to call me?" Rachel made a face as if to say, 'duh!' Santana shook her head. "You're on Broadway, Rachel. You know your publicist would never let you do that and neither would mine. It's bad enough wondering if she even wanted me to find her in the first place," Santana mumbled.

Rachel looked away. She understood exactly what Santana was trying to say. "Lucy," she said after a moment. Santana looked at her, confused. "When you were searching you were looking under the wrong name. She goes by Quinn but her first name is Lucy. And she's not on Facebook or Twitter. Your messages probably would've gone unnoticed anyway. She's kind of anti-social media," she explained awkwardly.

Santana chuckled incredulously. "At least now I know I'm not losing my mind," she said. "I was starting to think she didn't really exist." She pushed herself off of the balcony and stood in front of the other girl. "Look, I'm crazy about her but I barely even know her. Do you know how truly frustrating that is?" Rachel's expression softened as she looked at Santana's honest and vulnerable expression. "I don't know what else to do. I can't get her off my mind, I can't move on…" She looked defeated. "But I'm beginning to believe she doesn't want to be found."

"That's not true," Rachel protested.

"Is this crazy? Am _I _crazy? She doesn't know me. Clearly I don't know her," she shook her head, frustrated.

"You're not crazy," Rachel said softly.

"Could you…" Santana sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "Could you just tell her that I can't stop thinking about her?"

Rachel stared at her for a moment, deciding. Finally she took a deep breath. "You should tell her that yourself." Her eyes shifted past her, looking over Santana's shoulder.

Santana looked at her curiously and then turned. Her heart stopped.


	13. Chapter 13

Her hair was shorter, barely even shoulder length. She no longer wore the formal silver ball gown and uncomfortable heels. Instead, she was dressed casually: jeans, a long buttoned up grey wool coat and knee high black boots. Even from where she was standing, Santana could see her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. But she was still Quinn. And she was even more beautiful than Santana remembered.

Santana took several long, slow breaths as she tried to settle her heart and calm her nerves. Her breath puffed out in white bursts and swirled around in front of her face before fading away into the cold night air. Her eyes remained locked on Quinn's, unable to look away. Afraid of what would happen if she did.

From a few feet away, Rachel smiled, pleased with herself for successfully pulling off this reunion. "I'll just leave you two alone," she said and turned to walk back inside. She stopped and placed her hand on Quinn's shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile before giving the two some privacy.

Quinn opened her mouth to say something, anything, but she couldn't find her voice.

Santana was having a similar problem. She was having a hard time believing that this was real, that Quinn stood several feet away from her. All she had wanted for the last year was this moment, to stand face to face with Quinn, to talk to her, to be near her.

She had thought over and over again what she would say and do when she found her. This very moment had been in the back of her mind for exactly three hundred and fifty five days. And now that she was here, with Quinn, she had no idea what to do next.

Quinn stared back, her mouth open slightly as she too fumbled with action. A cool blast of winter air surrounded her and she shivered.

The small movement pulled Santana out of her thoughts. "Hi," she said breathlessly.

Quinn slipped her hands in her coat pockets and squeezed her arms to her body. "Hi."

That one word, that one simple world made Santana's head swim. It was real, _this_ was real. She moved forward, closer to her, the pounding in her chest growing with every step she took. "You cut your hair," she said. Quinn subconsciously reached up to finger the ends of her hair. "I like it. It looks really good on you," Santana continued.

Quinn blushed. "Thank you."

They stared at each other for a long moment, seemingly waiting for the other to speak first.

"I had all these things I wanted to say when I saw you again and now you're here and I can't remember any of it," Santana chuckled.

Quinn smiled, relieved that Santana was feeling the same way that she was. "Me too," she admitted.

Suddenly there came a muffled trilling sound from Quinn's purse. She tore her eyes from Santana and quickly fished for her phone inside of the bag. When she saw the number onscreen, she frowned. She recognized it only from when it had called earlier in the evening. "Hello?" She glanced at Santana and dropped her gaze as she spoke. "Yes, I know, I'm sorry. I'm going to be a little longer. I'm very sorry. Please give me a few more minutes." Quinn sighed and pulled the phone from her ear and dropped it back in her bag. "That was my cab. The driver's waiting for me," Quinn explained sheepishly.

Santana inhaled deeply. "You have a cab waiting," she repeated.

Quinn's eyes slowly lifted to Santana's. "I'm supposed to fly Ohio tonight."

Santana felt her shoulders slump. "Well… that really sucks." She exhaled deeply. She felt defeated. Turning, she walked towards the edge of the roof and leaned on the railing, looking down at the cars lined up along the curb. She spotted a few cabs scattered among them and frowned. She had the sinking feeling this wasn't going to end well. She had been waiting for this for the past year and now she was going to have to watch Quinn leave all over again. It was definitely not how Santana had imagined their reunion going.

Quinn closed her eyes briefly as Santana turned away. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up beside her and leaned against the railing, their shoulders not quite touching. "Rooftops always remind me of you," Quinn said finally.

"Yeah, well, everything reminds me of you." Her voice was sad, and it made Quinn's stomach twist.

She turned to look at the other girl. "I know the feeling."

"You better get going," Santana said with a sad smile. "I don't want to be the reason you don't get home for Christmas, Quinn."

Quinn's stomach twisted as her name rolled off of Santana's tongue. She wasn't sure why but that was the moment the reality of what was happening became real. Somewhere deep inside her a switch flipped and the lights seemed to come on. After months of constant, aching uncertainty, she knew instantly what she wanted. She was done running. "Do you...," she began, putting the words together in her head. Santana looked at her curiously. "Do you want to maybe go grab a cup of coffee?"

* * *

Santana glanced at the small pile of luggage stacked near nearby and took a slow sip of her steaming hot coffee. Her eyes flicked up to Quinn who shifted nervously across the booth. She knew that Quinn being here with her instead of on her way home was a very big deal. "Aren't your parents going to be upset with you not flying in tonight?"

"Probably," Quinn admitted sheepishly. "I'll call them later." She glanced up at Santana with a smile. "Do you have any plans for Christmas?"

Santana nodded and placed her mug on the table. "I'm going to Connecticut to see my brother."

"That sounds nice," Quinn smiled. "So, are you finished with your tour?"

"Yeah, we finished in November." Santana leaned back in the booth and sighed taking her coffee with her. "It was great. Long. Very long. And exhausting."

"I can imagine." Quinn took a sip from her cup and smiled. "I really like the new CD."

Santana brought her mug to her lips and took a slow sip, gazing across the cup and pinning Quinn with her stare. "Any songs in particular?" Santana asked nonchalantly, arching a brow. When Quinn blushed, Santana quickly decided to take pity on the poor girl and change the subject; though she made a mental note to circle back to the question later. "How's med school?"

Quinn looked instantly relieved. "It's good. It's kept me busy but I'm almost finished."

Santana smiled. "Soon you'll be a real doctor."

"I just have to pass the Step 2 exams," Quinn groaned. Just the thought of the first exam only ten days away made her shift uncomfortably.

"You will," Santana said simply.

The way Santana smiled at her; Quinn thought for sure her heart skipped a beat. Santana's brown eyes never left her as she took slow sips of her coffee, waiting for Quinn to take control of the conversation.

After a long hesitant pause, Quinn looked down at her hands. "What are you doing here, Santana?"

"I live here," Santana answered casually. Quinn lifted her head, surprised. "Well, in Battery Park."

"You live in New York?"

"I do," she said with a nod.

"That's… something." Santana felt a pang of guilt watching Quinn wrestle with the new information. She was sure all of this new information was a lot to handle. But before she could throw out a life-line, Quinn continued. "But I meant, what were you doing at Rachel's party?"

"She invited me," Santana answered simply.

"She invited you?"

With a small nod, Santana lifted one shoulder in a brief shrug. "She wrote to me. She explained who she was and sent me tickets."

"Rachel sent you tickets?" Quinn shook her head at the notion as if wrestling with the plausibility of it all. "I'm sorry. This is all a little confusing. Let me make sure I understand." Quinn's brow wrinkled as she recounted the information. "Rachel wrote you a letter, sent you tickets to her show, and you just… came over? Simple as that?"

"Simple as that," Santana confirmed.

"I'm sorry, this is a little hard to process." She picked up her mug and took a big swig. When she looked back up from the now empty cup, she found Santana staring at her intently. But Quinn just stared back, unsure of how to continue.

Having waited long enough, Santana leaned forward and put her palms face down on the table-top between them. "What I want to know is," she started, looking at Quinn thoughtfully. "Why didn't _you_ write to me?"

Quinn seemed utterly baffled. "You're wondering why I didn't write you a piece of fan mail?"

"Well it would've been better than this." Quinn's eyes widened as Santana turned her left hand over and revealed a folded piece of paper. Santana didn't even need to unfold it for Quinn to know instantly what it was. "You just walked out. I wanted to have breakfast with you. I wanted to see your messy morning hair and ask if you were interested in grabbing some dinner or a cup of coffee sometime. I wanted to ask you for your phone number, to know your last name." She slid the note into the center of the table.

Quinn desperately tried to keep the tears at bay.

"I wanted to tell you good morning and ask you how you slept," Santana continued. "Instead I wake up and you're just _gone_. So please, tell me," she begged. "Why did you do that?"

Quinn swallowed down the large lump forming in her throat. "Because," she started shakily, turning her head away. She took several breaths to steady her nerves before continuing "You _knew_ I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me who you were?"

Santana's expression softened. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. Santana threw her head back and let out a long sigh. "You're right. I should've told you. I should've been honest with you about who I was." She straightened her head and looked back at the other girl. She ran her hand through her hair. "But how do you tell someone that?"

"'Hi, I'm Santana Lopez the lead singer of the band Crossing Arizona'," Quinn said incredulously, her own frustration taking over.

Santana laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, well, I knew what you would think of me if I did. I didn't want you to assume I was using you. I didn't want you to think all I wanted was a one night stand. And it really sucked when I woke up and you weren't there, Quinn."

Quinn was stunned. Hearing the frustration, anger, and hurt in Santana's voice made her stomach turn. She felt awful. She was right, Santana deserved a real answer.

She took a deep breath. She needed to do this now. No more avoiding and no more running. "I think I owe you an explanation," Quinn said finally. She twisted the mug in her hands nervously. "A lot of explanations I think." She lifted her gaze to meet Santana's sadly.

Quinn bit her lower lip and dropped her gaze to the note she had written nearly a year ago. "When Rachel asked me to go to that New Year's party with her, my first instinct was to tell her no. A crowded party with celebrities and fancy dresses sounded nice, but I was tired from school and with Rachel up and coming, I knew I'd spend most of the night alone. I wouldn't know anyone and I knew I wouldn't really fit in. When we got there, Rachel was immediately swept away by the press and I was left to fend for myself in that ridiculous dress."

"It wasn't ridiculous," Santana interjected softly.

Quinn shook her head, thinking back at how out of place she felt. "And don't get me started on the shoes." And suddenly they were both smiling again. "Then I saw you sitting at the bar," she continued, her voice lowered almost to a whisper. "You looked exactly how I felt; like you'd rather be anywhere else in the world than at that party." Santana couldn't help but smile. Quinn wasn't wrong about that. "You looked lonely. Sad even. And your eyes," Quinn said, a faraway look on her face, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I could've looked into your eyes all night." She looked away abruptly, snapping out of her memories.

"I figured you had to be _someone_ important; the way people were vying for your attention," she continued before Santana could jump in. "I didn't blame them. I couldn't take my eyes off of you either. The way you smiled, the way you moved. The way your nose wrinkled when you laughed. How you shoved your hands in your pockets when you were nervous or crossed your arms when you were uncomfortable."

Santana glanced down at her crossed arms on the table top and blushed, instantly separating them. Quinn caught the expression and smiled warmly.

"I had to talk to you again. I had to know more about you. So when I saw that you were alone on the balcony, I went for it." Quinn's gaze shifted between her mug and Santana's eyes. "You were so charming and funny. You made me feel like I fit in at a place I knew I didn't belong. And all I could think about was how _badly_ I wanted to kiss you. But I knew that if I did, I would want more. I was so scared. But finally I stopped thinking and I kissed you."

The smile faded from her lips and Quinn furrowed her brows thoughtfully. She bit her lower lip nervously. "Our night together was…," her voice cracked as she trailed off. After a brief moment, she cleared her throat and pressed on. "I'd never done anything like that before. I'm the girl that waits until there's a certain level of trust. I couldn't understand why it was so different with you." Quinn looked at Santana, tears in her eyes. "But it was the best night of my life."

Santana swallowed the lump in her throat, fighting desperately to keep her own tears at bay.

Quinn quickly wiped at her eyes. "The next morning, I got up and found the magazines lying there, with you plastered across the covers. That's when I found out who you were: Santana Lopez, lead singer of Crossing Arizona. It devastated me. I was so embarrassed. I felt like a stupid, naïve girl who did something incredibly reckless with someone who I thought probably did that sort of thing all the time."

Santana leaned forward, opening her mouth to protest. But Quinn shook her head and held up her hand. She wasn't finished.

"I was humiliated. Heartbroken. There I was, Quinn Fabray, another notch on the bedpost of a world famous rock star. And it hurt." She looked up at Santana and saw the words hit home. It certainly didn't make her feel good to put them out there, but it was absolutely something she'd needed to say. "I didn't know what to do. Part of me believed everything you said was real, that what we had was genuine, that you cared. The other part of me, the sensible, realistic part screamed at me to get out of there as fast as I could. To save face. I thought that you were just using me and that it meant nothing for you." Quinn looked up at Santana as a tear slid down her cheek. "So I ran."

Though it still hurt immensely to hear it explained, Santana nodded slowly and did her best to try and understand where Quinn had been coming from. "And the note?" she asked carefully.

"I guess the hopeful part of me wanted to do something, _needed _to do something," she said nervously.

"But '_It's a shame you're a dream'_? That stung. I was real. I _am _real," Santana said. When Quinn didn't respond, Santana took the moment to do some clarifying of her own. "I've tried to figure it out every day for the past year, why you would think that," Santana confessed. She shook her head, frustrated. "It sucked, Q. It hurt a lot. "I thought about you _every day_," she said firmly. "Why didn't you give me a chance? Why didn't you let me explain or talk to me about it?"

"I don't know!" Quinn cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "I just kept thinking: a med student and a rock star? It would never work. How could it? The idea of me being with you, it _was_ just fantasy, a dream. I was scared! I'm _still _scared!"

"Scared of _what_?" Santana asked loudly. She looked around the diner sheepishly, but the handful of patrons didn't even glance up from their food. "Scared of what?" she asked again more quietly.

"Of what was happening between us. What if it wasn't real for you?" Quinn asked frustrated.

"Of course it was real for me!" Santana's tone urged for Quinn to believe her. "From the moment I saw you it was real!"

Quinn shook her head. "How was I supposed to know that when you didn't even tell me who you were?"

"I _did _tell you who I was! I just didn't tell you what I _do! _And you would've known that if you had stayed!" Santana shook her head and closed her eyes. She took several deep breaths and leaned back in the booth. "You saw the real me that night, Quinn. Not the politically correct interview Santana, or the 'wave-you've-got-a-camera-in-your-face' Santana, but me." She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. "Do you know how scary that was for _me_? I get used _all the time_. People aren't interested in me as a person. They're interested in my job, my status. But you not knowing…" She shook her head. "What we had was the only real thing I've had in a very long time." Quinn wiped desperately at her eyes, trying to rid her cheeks of her tears. "I get why you're mad. I get why you feel betrayed. But you were different. And you left me." Quinn let out a small, chocked sob, as she tore her eyes away from her. "Why did stay you tonight, Quinn? If the idea of being with me scares you so damn much, why did you stay?" Santana asked gently.

She took a long time to answer. She glanced out the big diner window at the streetlights and the few people picking their way around the mostly empty sidewalks. She watched the traffic for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. The soft sound of _Baker Street_ played softly from the Juke Box behind her. To her credit, Santana didn't rush her, which Quinn was grateful for. But she felt her eyes on her nonetheless.

With a shaky breath she turned her head and returned the gaze. "Because I can't move on. Because being without you is so much worse and I don't think I can do it again," she whispered. "And because I'm crazy about you."

If the words affected Santana one way or another, Quinn couldn't tell from her expression. She just continued to stare at Quinn with the same impassive look. For a brief moment, Quinn's heart sank. Maybe that wasn't the answer Santana was looking for. She tore her eyes away and desperately tried to think of something else to say. But before anything came to mind she felt the bench seat shift slightly as Santana got up and came over to slide in next to her.

She reached out and took one of Quinn's hands in her own, brushing her thumb across her knuckles. "I get why you're scared. Believe me; I'm right there with you. We had this perfect night together. There's no way we could possibly live up to that. Am I close?" Quinn nodded. "You think that I'll get bored or meet someone else, that maybe you'll get bored."

"I don't think I'd ever be bored with you, Santana," Quinn admitted with a blush.

"Yeah well, I don't think I'll ever be bored with you either." She scooted closer to Quinn. "Were you really scared the night we met?"

Quinn nodded. "Terrified."

Santana looked down at Quinn's hand underneath her own. "You didn't seem terrified. In fact, you seemed rather bold to me."

Santana was right. Though she had been rather terrified, something inside of her had changed that night. She had found a reason to overcome her worries and just act on what she had so desperately wanted without fear of failing.

"And you didn't leave tonight," Santana reminded her. "That's something."

Quinn glanced up at Santana's eyes. She was watching her curiously, holding perfectly still except for the gently stroke of her thumb on her knuckles. Quinn swallowed roughly. Her eyes fell to Santana's mouth. And before she could think about anything further, she leaned in, pressing her lips against Santana's.

Quinn felt Santana smile against her mouth. With a relieved sigh, she brought her hand up and put her palm against Santana's cheek.

The kiss was firm and chaste. There was nothing passionate or remarkably romantic about it. It was a simple kiss that said a lot of things that neither one of them could have put properly into words right then. And to Quinn it was perfect.

Santana pulled away slowly and leaned back. Quinn watched her carefully. Santana brought Quinn's hand to her mouth and dragged her lips across her knuckles."Before this goes any further, I think it's important that I tell you something."

Quinn looked up. "Okay," she said hesitantly.

Santana took a deep breath. "I'm kind of famous. I'm the lead singer of this band called Crossing Arizona and we just got through with this pretty huge world tour," she said seriously. Quinn exhaled in relief and chuckled lightly. "I want you to know I like you a lot. In fact, I've been looking for you for a pretty long time. So I think it's pretty safe to say that I'm crazy about you, too." Quinn released the breath she had been holding in. Santana ducked her head to make sure she had Quinn's full attention. "And I can promise you, Lucy Quinn Fabray, that you will _never _be just a random notch on my bedpost."

Santana leaned in and kissed her so carefully, so slowly, that Quinn could barely stand it. She reached out and grabbed the front of her sweatshirt and pulled her closer. Santana let out a small sound of surprise, but reached out and tangled her hands in Quinn's hair, turning her head to kiss her more deeply.

Quinn's body melted against Santana's. She sighed as their tongues met, both of them tasting of coffee but neither one caring.


	14. Chapter 14

Santana dragged her palms up and down her thighs and absent-mindedly tapped the heels of her feet along the hardwood floor below. She cast an anxious glance over at Sam. "Do you think everything's okay?"

Sam shrugged beside her as they stared at the closed bedroom door. "I guess so. I mean, I don't hear any yelling." Stifling a yawn, he leaned back and reached behind him to drape both arms over the back of the couch. Santana went back to tapping, her eyes glued to the door.

It had been closing on twenty minutes since Quinn had gone into the room to return her parent's phone call. Her phone had been buzzing the entire cab ride back to Santana's apartment. Santana had winced every time Quinn had pressed ignore. She could only imagine the conversation Quinn must be having with her mother right now. "She's been in there a long time," Santana mumbled.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Sam said with a reassuring smile.

Santana tore her eyes from the door and looked at Sam guiltily. "Do you think I should've made her go home tonight? I mean, they were expecting her and she just bailed."

"Santana, she chose to miss her flight. She _wanted _to. That was pretty clear from the second you two walked in the apartment. You were practically glued to each other." The amusement was clear in his tone. Santana sighed and turned back towards the door. He patted her back gently. "It was her choice."

Santana ran her hand through her hair. "I just feel bad."

He arched an eyebrow and nodded in the direction of her busy feet. "Are you freaking out?"

Santana's head snapped towards him with a defensive look. "What? No." She shook her head as Sam rolled his eyes. "No," she repeated. Sam crossed his arms and waited, his eyes dropping back down to her nervous gestures. Santana's hands and feet stilled and she looked at him sheepishly. "A little." She pointed towards her bedroom door. "She's here. A year later and she's actually _here. _In my bedroom." And then she was tapping even more quickly.

Sam reached out and grabbed Santana's shoulder firmly. "Get your shit together, dude!" He gave her a quick, hard shake. "This is the woman of your dreams!"

It took Santana by surprise but succeeded in bringing her back to reality for a moment. "I know, I'm just a little nervous," she sighed. She smiled at Sam and rested her hands on his arm. "Thanks, Sam. You know, for everything."

The sound of her bedroom door opening cut off any further conversation. Santana shot to her feet and looked over at Quinn hopefully. "Hey! How did it go?" she blurted and immediately wanted to kick herself for sounding panicky.

Quinn walked over towards the couch, gripping her phone tightly in her hand. "Well, first she was mad and screaming and then she was crying and guilting. So, fine I guess." Quinn frowned. "She booked me another flight for tomorrow. She said I had better be on it."

That was all Sam needed to hear. He stood, clapped his hands together and nodded at them both. "Well. I will leave you lovely ladies to it. I'm glad you found each other and I hope you both sleep well." He gave Santana a pointed look.

"Night, Sam," she said, returning the look.

"Goodnight," Quinn said quietly.

Santana's eyes turned to Quinn. She waited until the guest bedroom door quietly closed and she knew they were alone. "Quinn, I'm sorry about -"

"Please don't," Quinn cut her off and shook her head "It's bad enough that I have to leave tomorrow. I tried to convince her to let me stay but my family takes family time pretty seriously. Especially Christmas." She ran her hands through her hair, frustrated. It was then that she finally took in her surroundings; at the large empty apartment and the smattering of as-yet unpacked boxes lying about.

A shelf on the far side of the room caught her eye. She walked over and stopped in front of it, taking in the several awards that Santana's band had won over the past few years. There were several framed platinum singles and the debut and current records. Next to that were the many magazine covers that Crossing Arizona had adorned, framed in thick black bordered frames that must have weighed a ton and cost even more. It was quite the collage. Quinn suddenly felt every single symptom of star-struck.

"Does it bother you?" Santana asked from behind her.

Quinn's eyes scanned the engravings on the plaques. "Your awards?"

Santana stepped up beside Quinn, her eyes also roaming over the displays she and Sam had spent a few hours hanging up. "All of it."

Somehow, Quinn knew exactly what she meant - The fame, the press, her status and popularity. She turned her head to look at Santana, but caught her looking away guiltily. Santana was a celebrity. She was someone who was currently in high demand and well known. Which was by and large the reason Quinn had fled from her in the first place; Santana's fame was like a planet with its own orbit and millions of stars circling it. Millions of people - fans - that didn't know her but still dedicated to making themselves rather intimately known to her nonetheless. When Quinn had discovered that fact the morning after they met, it was like a light switch flipped.

And now, after a year of coming to grips and bitterly regretting her decision to run, she found herself once again staring at Santana's blatant fame. But this time it was different. This time she knew she meant more to Santana than just one night. As she stared at Santana on the cover of _Rolling Stone _and _Maxim_ - Santana wasn't just some rock star. She wasn't just someone who toured the world and played for thousands of fans every other night. Santana was a woman who made her laugh, who made her feel comfortable, who had given her the best night of her life. No entourages, no bodyguards and no screaming fans required. Just her.

No, her fame wasn't what was bothering her. Not anymore. Quinn shook her head. "No," she said quietly. Santana turned to look at her curiously. "What bothers me is that I've been running from you for so long and now that you're here, I'm running again."

Santana couldn't help but smile in relief. She had been expecting the start of a different speech entirely. She instantly felt better. "Quinn, you're not running," she reassured her. "You're going home for Christmas. That's completely different."

"Is it?"

"Yes." Santana reached out and took Quinn's phone from her hand. Quinn watched her curiously as she tapped quickly across the screen. A moment later came a buzzing sound from behind them. Quinn turned her head back and noticed Santana's phone lit up and vibrating on the coffee table. "There. I finally have your number," Santana smirked. "And you have mine. Call me. Text me. Skype with me. Anything you want, whenever you want." She handed Quinn her phone. "Come on," she said as she took Quinn by the hand and led her towards the luggage near the front door. She stooped down, picked up both of Quinn's bags and winked at her as she carried them both into her bedroom. She dropped both on the floor and turned and waited expectantly for Quinn to follow her in, which Quinn did. Santana closed the door behind her.

"At least you have your pajamas already packed," Santana said lightheartedly. Quinn bit her lower lip, trying to calm the anxiousness threatening to overtake her. Santana ducked her head and looked worriedly at her. "Quinn?" She looked up at Santana, not even attempting to hide her emotions. "Hey," Santana said, reaching out to take Quinn's hand in her own. "Come here." She led Quinn to the edge of her bed and sat them down so they were sitting side by side. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to leave," Quinn said sadly.

"Hey, look at me." Santana reached out and cupped the sides of Quinn's face in her hands. "I just found you. I'm not letting you go, okay? And I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you get back. I promise."

Quinn nodded and closed her eyes. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Santana's. "It's funny isn't it? The first time I left so quickly and now… it's the last thing in the world I want to do."

Santana leaned forward and pressed her lips lightly against Quinn's. It was meant to be comforting, reassuring, but it quickly grew to something heated, almost desperate.

They kissed each other as if they were making up for lost time, and perhaps they were. Their tongues slid together, their hands reaching out to grab hold of anything they could reach. It was clingy, passionate and just a little bit messy. It was perfect.

Quinn shifted and draped one leg across Santana's thighs and slid onto her lap. Her hands fumbled briefly with the hem of Santana's shirt, tugging it upwards and off of Santana's body. Her hands quickly found their way into Santana's hair, gripping her dark locks tightly as she took short, heavy gasps of air between kisses.

Santana pressed her hands hard against Quinn's back, pulling her in and against her chest. She lowered her head, breaking their kiss to drag her lips across the side of Quinn's neck. She inhaled deeply and sighed at the scent of Quinn's skin. She shifted them both closer to the middle of the bed and fell backwards, taking Quinn with her.

Quinn leaned down, kissing her again as she pushed the bra straps from Santana's shoulders and down the lengths of her arms. Once she was free, Santana reached out and pulled Quinn's shirt over her head, tossing it aside. She grabbed Quinn's face in her hands and pulled her close.

They undressed hurriedly, pulling the remaining clothes from their bodies and discarding them carelessly on the floor. Once the last of the items had been shed, Quinn settled between Santana's legs, lowering her body on top of hers until there was no space left between them.

Santana looked up at Quinn, her light hair falling down the sides of her face. She reached up to push away her hair, her eyes drinking in every detail of Quinn's face, remembering the way she looked.

Quinn lowered her head and kissed her softly, their frantic movements slowing dramatically.

Santana's hands roamed freely, re-familiarizing herself with the contours and heat of Quinn's body. She ran them across every inch she could reach, massaging her fingers into her skin as she went. She wrapped her legs up and around Quinn's, tangling them both in place.

Quinn propped herself on her forearm and reached out with her other hand to take Santana's into her own. Quinn squeezed her hand as her tongue slid slowly along Santana's. They no longer rushed, both content with being pressed together, slowly kissing, wrapped in each other's arms.

After several moments, however, Santana realized she couldn't keep the pace. The need to be closer to Quinn was too overwhelming. She pulled her hand away from Quinn's and teased her fingers down her side. She shifted slightly underneath Quinn to give herself more room to move. Her hand brushed down past Quinn's stomach and found her center. Quinn moaned against Santana's lips. Right when she thought Santana was beginning to fall into rhythm, she felt the two slender fingers slip inside her all at once.

Quinn threw her head back and immediately began to rock herself down against Santana's fingers. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of being with Santana again so intimately again after so long. She pressed her forehead against Santana's chest as she rocked, grabbing the bedspread tightly.

Santana felt the breath leave her lungs when Quinn suddenly decided to return the favor and slip her own hand between her legs and begin to thrust. Santana tossed her head back against the pillow with a loud moan. After the initial adjustment, she began to match Quinn's rocking motions again, falling into the same pace that Quinn was setting.

Quinn opened her eyes and lifted her head. Her eyes fell to Santana's open mouth and she bent forward, needing to keep her lips pressed to Santana's, needing to drink in her breath.

They were in sync, sliding against each other, their fingers moving in and out of each other while their tongues dueled.

It was Santana who unraveled first; Quinn drinking in her moans as she held on while Santana climaxed. She quickened her pace, pulling her mouth away so Santana could pull in large gulps of air. Her fingers stayed inside of Santana as she propped herself up and rode out her own pleasure.

Santana watched her with half-closed eyes from beneath her. She didn't stop her movements until Quinn all but collapsed on her forearm and her body pressed against Santana's. With a groan of protest, she slowly withdrew her hand out from between Quinn's legs.

Quinn closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. Her hair stuck to her forehead and her skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat. Her make-up was smudged under her eyes from crying and sweating and her hair was ruffled from Santana continuously running her fingers through it.

Santana smiled at the sight of her, immediately realizing that she hadn't been this happy in a long, long time.

She arched up and kissed her again. She was beginning to realize she always wanted to be kissing Quinn. "So what do you think? The doctor and the rock star?" Santana asked, brushing away some of the loose strands of her from Quinn's face.

Quinn smiled and opened her eyes, dropping a lazy kiss against her lips. "I think there'd be a lot of broken hearts out there."

"They'll get over it," Santana said with a smirk. She looked in Quinn's eyes and pulled her closer, holding her tight against her body. "Promise me when you get back I can have you longer than one night."

Quinn looked down at her with a smile and nodded. "I promise."

* * *

She took a deep breath and stretched her arms out up above her head. A smile stretched across her face as she stretched out the soreness in her body. It was early. She could tell that right away. Between talking and sex, Quinn figured she'd had more of a nap than a full night's sleep. Not that she was complaining.

Quinn turned her head to the side towards Santana who was still fast asleep. Quinn propped her head on her hand and looked down at her. She was immediately struck by how similar this all was; nearly a year ago to the day she had woken up next to this same woman, sleeping peacefully on her stomach. Quinn's heart swelled at the sight.

She reached out and pushed the dark hair from her shoulder, exposing the musical notes tattoo she knew would be there on the back of her neck. Quinn leaned down and kissed them and continued to drop warm kisses along the length of her bare shoulder.

Santana inhaled deeply and turned her head so she faced Quinn. A lazy smile stretched across her face as she looked up at her from the pillow. "Hi." Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. Quinn thought it sounded absolutely sexy.

"Hi," Quinn smiled.

Santana rubbed her eyes sleepily and yawned. "What time is it?" She asked, hazily aware that the room was still dark. If it hadn't been for the light they had left on by her closet, the room would've been pitch dark.

Quinn glanced behind her at the clock on the nightstand. "6:52." She put her head back down on the pillow and stared at Santana, who was still rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"It's so early," Santana groaned.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Santana reached out and wrapped her arm around Quinn to pull her down closer so that Quinn's head rested on the same pillow next to her. She ran her eyes across Quinn's face, taking in every detail: the slight bags under her eyes, what was left of her smudged make-up, and her crazy bed hair. "So this is what you look like in the morning," she teased.

Quinn blushed and ducked her head. "Quite a sight, I know." She looked up at Santana's teasing expression and reached out to push the hair from her face.

"No, you look amazing. Pretty perfect actually," Santana said with a lopsided smile.

Quinn blushed and shook her head. "That can't be true at all."

Santana smiled and pulled her closer. "What time is your flight?"

"11:30," Quinn sighed. "I should probably shower."

Santana nodded and pulled Quinn closer. "How about I make some coffee and waffles while you go do that?"

Quinn couldn't help but smile. She knew right then that she didn't want to wake up next to anyone but Santana again. "Sounds perfect."

* * *

Quinn checked the gate number as they approached. Her flight was already in the middle of boarding. "Talk about timing," Quinn said, slightly out of breath, as they came to a halt.

Santana shrugged and glanced up at the flight information and then around at the waiting area surrounding them. "Well, I'm kind of an expert," she smirked. She turned back towards Quinn and placed her carry-on bag down.

Quinn laughed. "It's true. Otherwise you wouldn't have been given a non-boarding pass to escort me to my gate."

"Well I _am _quite charming," Santana smiled.

"That you are," Quinn agreed. She adjusted her purse, her smile faltering. "I'll call you when I land."

Santana nodded. "Well, you have my number," she teased.

"I'll be home on Friday," Quinn said almost as if she were reminding herself rather than Santana. She glanced around at the others that were milling about, waiting to board. And then she noticed him. Her cheeks reddened instantly. She leaned in towards Santana, her voice lowering. "There's a photographer over there taking our picture."

Santana rocked back on her heels. "You noticed him, huh?" she sighed. "A travelling paparazzi. How wonderful," she mumbled. She shoved her hands in her back pockets. "I know we didn't really get a chance to talk about any of this, what it would mean for you to date me and all that you'd have to give up. It's kind of a big choice, you know? Your private life kinda goes out the window. I get it if you don't want to be in the tabloids -"

But her speech was cut short when Quinn placed her lips confidently against Santana's, silencing her. It didn't last long, but it answered Santana's lingering question. They knew the photographer's camera hadn't left his face and Quinn was sure he'd gotten several shots of their public display of affection. "The doctor and the rock star," Quinn reminded her as she pulled away.

Santana smirked. "I think I'd better call my publicist."

"I think you'd better," Quinn agreed with a smile. Just because they hadn't talked about it, didn't mean Quinn hadn't been thinking about it. It had been in the back of her mind the entire night. Being with Santana was worth it.

Once she returned from Ohio anyway.

Quinn sighed and bent down to grab the handle of her other bag. She gripped her boarding pass tightly in her hand and stood up straight. "See you in a few days?"

"See you in a few days," Santana repeated. Quinn turned towards the gate but Santana reached out, placing her hand on her arm to stop her. "Quinn, wait." Quinn turned. "Make sure you tell Rachel thank you," she said with a smile.

"I will," Quinn assured her.

Santana watched as Quinn checked in and passed through the gate as they made last call.

As she walked down the boarding ramp, Quinn slowed and glanced over her shoulder to give Santana one more look. Santana smiled and brought her hand up to wave.

She stayed until Quinn rounded the corner and went out of sight. She shoved her hands back into her jacket pockets and sighed. She glanced back at the photographer who continued to snap pictures despite clearly being spotted. Briefly she wondered which rag she might end up on the cover of from these. But then again, strangely enough, she realized she didn't care one bit. Not if meant Quinn would be with her. The thought made her smile despite watching Quinn board her flight.

It sucked, watching Quinn leave. It certainly didn't make her happy, but this time, at least, it didn't _hurt. _This time it was different. This time she knew for certain that in four days they would be together again. No more wondering where she was or if she would ever see her again. The blissful certainty made her head spin.

As she navigated her way back through the busy airport, she fired off a quick text to Sam to let him know she was on her way back. There was very little in the way of an appropriate thank you that she could give him. Flying out to New York just to attend a Broadway show only to stay locked away in a guest bedroom before turning back a day later to catch a flight back to LA… she definitely owed him big time.

As she stepped outside, Santana hailed a cab pulling up to the curb and slipped in the backseat before the cabbie came to a complete stop. "Battery Park please," she instructed as pulled the door shut. The cabbie gave her a nod and peeled away from the building.

Santana felt her phone vibrate in her hands and curiously glanced down at it, expecting a reply from Sam. But it wasn't from him.

Slowly she smiled at the message from Quinn:

_By the way…what are you doing for New Years?_


	15. Epilogue

**JUNE 22, 2014 - HAWAII**

Santana plucked at the strings of her acoustic; a simple melody that wouldn't leave her head. She stared ahead at the ocean and the vibrant colors that reflected off of the water. She was up early but the sunrise had been worth it. Leaning back in her chair, she brought the scooped back of the acoustic up against her chest and propped her feet up on the footrest in front of her.

It was a perfect morning. The breeze was light and warm. Santana closed her eyes and fingered the strings, the music flowing effortlessly. She closed her eyes. A few more months and Crossing Arizona would be back in the studio. It had been awhile since they'd been in to record but they weren't rushing out another album. In fact, the time off had been the best thing they'd ever done.

Naturally they still spent time together, except they all had time off to be with their families and focus on themselves and their personal lives. But eventually, the desire to create and write together as a band became impossible to stay away from any longer. It was time to slowly start working on their next project. Her head clear and focused for the first time in ages, Santana had a feeling their third album would be their best yet.

Until then, she was content to sit in the morning sun and think about the past few days of her mini-vacation; particularly the day before.

Marley and Jake's wedding had been perfect. A small, intimate ceremony on the cliff's of Hawaii. There were no paparazzi, no reporters, and no unwanted guests. It was personal and romantic. Santana had smiled the entire afternoon.

_"Just water, please," Santana said to the bartender. He nodded and reached under the counter for a cold bottle of water and unscrewed the top before handing it to her. "Thanks."_

_She turned around and placed her elbow on top of the bar and leaned back against it. Her eyes scanned the crowd until finally landing on an intimate conversation across the dance floor. She watched curiously as the two women laughed, the taller of the two reaching out to place her hand on the other girl's arm._

_Santana let her eyes drift slowly up the extended arm until they landed on Quinn's face. She had a drink in one hand and the other __was__ pressed lightly against her mouth as she laughed at whatever Brittany was saying. Santana could faintly hear it from across the room._

_Santana smiled. She always smiled when Quinn laughed._

_"You look happy," Sam said, stepping up beside her and following her line of sight._

_Santana didn't take her eyes her eyes off the pair. "I am happy," she answered instantly._

_"You finally got your girl," he continued._

_Santana grinned. "That I did."_

_Sam watched the girls. "Is it weird that your girlfriend and ex-girlfriend get along so well?"_

_Santana turned her head and watched their conversation thoughtfully. "You know, it's not actually. It's kind of… awesome."_

_"Well, I gotta say happiness looks good on you. It's been way too long," Sam said, patting Santana on the back._

_"And what about you?" she asked, turning to face him. "You've been getting pretty serious yourself. I feel like I haven't seen you for months. Is it safe to call it love?" Santana teased._

_"It might be," Sam said with a slow smirk. "Is all this wedding fever giving you any ideas?"_

_Santana chuckled and took a long pull from her bottle of water. "It might be," she said repeating his previous confession teasingly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go tell my girlfriend how amazing she looks." She handed Sam her water bottle and weaved her way through the dance floor, politely declining the handful of invitations for her to join in._

_When she reached the duo, she slipped an arm around Quinn and pulled her close. Quinn turned her head and leaned in to kiss her briefly. "We were just talking about you," Quinn beamed at her. _

_Santana groaned. "I'm afraid to ask."_

_"You should be," Brittany agreed cryptically._

_Santana eyed her suspiciously. "That's not at all disturbing." She turned towards Quinn and pulled on her gently. "Do you mind if I borrow you for a minute?"_

_"I mind," Brittany pouted._

_"Too bad," Santana counted with a wink. She reached out to take Quinn's drink and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter. She laced her fingers in between Quinn's with practiced ease, flashed Brittany a smile and led Quinn away from the reception and out onto the smooth stones just outside the large reception tent._

_"Where are we going?" Quinn asked in amusement as they walked._

_Santana looked back over her shoulder and shrugged. "I just wanted you all to myself for a little while." She stopped when they got closer to the edge of the cliff and they looked down at the beach below. She turned and pulled Quinn closer, slipping her arms around her waist. "Have I told you tonight how beautiful you look?"_

_"Yes, you have," Quinn smiled, slipping her arms around Santana's neck. "But it's always nice to hear." She leaned in to kiss her._

_Santana took a deep breath. "There's something I want to ask you. I was going to wait until we got back but…" _

_Quinn eyed her suspiciously. "What is it?"_

_"I was hoping that when we got back to New York, maybe you'd want to unpack at my place," she said casually._

_Quinn couldn't suppress her smile. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"_

_Santana shrugged. "I mean, half of you stuff is already there. I just think that maybe you should bring the other half over too." She smiled and pressed her forehead to Quinn's. "I want to come home to you after I've been gone. And wake up beside you every morning. I want all of your stuff mixed in with all my stuff. I want your toothbrush next to mine and your fancy shampoos taking up all the space in the shower. I want your name on my answering machine and your parking space next to mine."_

_"Santana…"_

_"I'll even let you pick a new security code," Santana offered._

_Quinn laughed. "Well, when you put it like that…" she leaned in and kissed her._

_"So… that means yes, right?" Santana asked against Quinn's mouth._

_Quinn nodded. "Yes. I would love to move in with you." Santana ducked her head in to kiss her again, but Quinn pulled back. "Just promise me something."_

_"Anything."_

_"Please learn how to use the new coffee maker," she pleaded._

_Santana threw her head back and laughed. "Deal."_

With her eyes still closed, she continued to strum on her guitar, lost in her thoughts. The sliding glass door opened and Santana smiled. The door closed quietly and she faintly smelled fresh coffee. "It's beautiful out here," said Quinn in a raspy voice.

Santana hummed and cracked her eyes open. She ran her eyes up Quinn's loose grey yoga pants and thin strapped white tank top. Her hair was pulled back messily and she cradled the mug in her hands as if her life depended on it. She turned towards Santana and smiled sleepily. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Santana responded with a smile. She continued to play the lazy melody.

"That's pretty," she said, turning towards Santana. "What's it called?"

"'A Holiday with Lucy'," Santana said seriously.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "It is not," she countered. She stepped towards her in amusement. Santana stopped playing and propped her guitar against the table next to her chair. She held out her hand and pulled Quinn towards her and down on her lap. Quinn yelped and tried to keep her coffee from splashing out of the cup.

Santana gently took the mug from her hands, taking a small sip and then placed it on the table. She wrapped her arms around Quinn tightly and leaning in to kiss her good morning. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty great, actually," Quinn admitted.

Santana sighed happily. "It's the ocean. It's been scientifically proven to help people feel calm and relaxed and thus sleep better."

Quinn ran her hands through Santana's hair with an amused smile. "Yes, that must be it," she agreed.

Santana slipped her hands under Quinn's tank top and ran her palms up her back. "Did I tell you how incredible you looked in that dress last night?"

"Oh, you mean the dress that you tore off the second we walked into the room?" Santana nodded and nuzzled her face against Quinn's neck. "The one that's currently in a wrinkled heap on the floor?"

Santana turned her head and peeked behind her into the room. She easily spotted the dress by the door. She turned back and smirked. "Yeah, that one."

Quinn laughed. "Would you like me to go put it back on?"

"No," Santana said leaning in to kiss her. "I like you in your pajamas."

Quinn returned her kiss before pulling away and eyeing her coffee. As she reached for it, her eyes fell on the open magazine resting underneath. Quinn turned her head to the side and squinted her eyes. "Is that me?"

Santana glanced at the magazine but didn't answer. Quinn pulled her mug off of the page and brought them both towards her. She settled back into Santana's lap, turning so that her back was resting against the other girl's chest.

Santana adjusted, wrapping her arms around Quinn's midsection and peering over her shoulder at the picture of them leaving the grocery store. "Oh my God, I look awful," Quinn groaned.

Santana shook her head and turned her face inwards, dropping a kiss on the side of her neck. "Not possible."

Quinn stared at the picture a moment longer, her eyes scanning the caption below. _"Rocker In Love?"_ She arched an eyebrow and skimmed the article. "I love how they talk about what we bought at the store. Not sure why anyone cares that we bought some bread."

"Hey, I warned you about this. You knew it would happen," Santana said pointedly.

Quinn sighed and waved her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes."

Quinn continued to pour over the article stopping to read and re-read one sentence at the end of the write up. _ Lopez was spotted flying solo on a coffee run earlier in the week. When asked whether or not her relationship was serious she told us, "I'm so in love with her it's disgusting."_

"Now I know why they're so interested in us buying bread," Quinn murmured. She let the magazine fall into her lap and she turned around.

Santana arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"You told them you were in love with me?" Quinn asked smiling.

Santana looked down at the magazine, feigning confusion. "Huh. I guess I did." She looked up at Quinn with a smirk. "It's not like you didn't know that. I tell you all the time."

It was true. Santana made it point to tell her every day. But seeing the words in print, knowing that she meant them enough to not just tell her but to tell _everyone, _made her heart skip and her stomach flutter.

Quinn reached out and placed her hands on either side of Santana's face and leaned in to brush their lips together with a smile. "I'm disgustingly in love with you too."

* * *

**Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with me 'til the end. I know it got a little tedious there in the middle! I appreciate every single review, message and comment. Thank you so much to lookatthestar for the amazing artwork and to Mistiec - without you I'm not sure I would've finished this! And last, but definitely not least, to the best beta in the world - who wants no credit whatsoever - but seriously, you are the greatest. **


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